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I love thee, as the good love heaven.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nature is a revelation of God Art a revelation of man.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In ourselves are triumph and defeat.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And in despair I bowed my head There is no peace on earth, I said For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: God is not dead, nor doth he sleep! The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Don Quixote thought he could have made beautiful bird-cages and toothpicks if his brain had not been so full of ideas of chivalry. Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Youth wrenches the sceptre from old age, and sets the crown on its own head before it is entitled to it.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nor deem the irrevocable Past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Art is the child of Nature yes, Her darling child, in whom we trace The features of the mother's face, Her aspect and her attitude, All her majestic loveliness Chastened and softened and subdued Into a more attractive grace, And with a human sense imbued. He is the greatest artist, then, Whether of pencil or of pen, Who follows Nature.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Every man has a paradise around him till he sins, and the angel of an accusing conscience drives him from his Eden.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Stars of earth, these golden flowers emblems of our own great resurrection emblems of the bright and better land.
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
Softly the evening came /with the sunset/.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Love contending with friendship, and self with each generous impulse. To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and dashing, As in a foundering ship.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
