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Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Achieve
Learning
Waiting
Pursuing
Learn
Achieving
Stills
Achievement
Still
Wait
Heart
Fate
Time
Labor
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Who dares To say that he alone has found the truth?
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No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
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O little souls! as pure as white And crystalline as rays of light Direct from heaven, their source divine Refracted through the mist of years, How red my setting sun appears, How lurid looks this soul of mine!
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The greatest firmness is the greatest mercy.
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Age is opportunity no less than youth itself.
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Man is always more than he can know of himself consequently, his accomplishments, time and again, will come as a surprise to him.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Not chance of birth or place has made us friends, Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations, But the endeavor for the selfsame ends, With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Youth, hope, and love: To build a new life on a ruined life, To make the future fairer than the past, And make the past appear a troubled dream.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Look not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.
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Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.
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The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark
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Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.
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Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
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Great men stand like solitary towers in the city of God.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
None but yourself who are your greatest foe.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Autumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Your silent tents of green We deck with fragrant flowers Yours has the suffering been, The memory shall be ours.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
