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Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
Professor
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Every
Horseshoe
Hadst
Horseshoes
Picked
Thou
Luck
Happy
Art
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature, That fashions all her works in high relief, And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth, Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire Men, women, and all animals that breathe Are statues, and not paintings.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The grave itself is but a covered bridge, Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the Gods are everywhere
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Mormons make the marriage ring, like the ring of Saturn, fluid, not solid, and keep it in its place by numerous satellites.
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
Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
When you ask one friend to dine, Give him your best wine! When you ask two, The second best will do!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
To say the least, a town life makes one more tolerant and liberal in one's judgment of others.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A stiff letter galls one like a stiff shirt collar -- whilst a sheet garnished here and there with a careless blot -- and here and there a dash -- but in the main full of excellent matter, is like a clever fellow in a dirty shirt whom we value for the good humour he brings with him and not for the garb he wears.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Give what you have. To some one, it may be better than you dare to think.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The world loves a spice of wickedness.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The country is lyric, the town dramatic. When mingled, they make the most perfect musical drama.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A town that boasts inhabitants like me Can have no lack of good society.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon Like a magician extended his golden want o'er the landscape Trinkling vapors arose and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am the Angel of the Sun Whose flaming wheels began to run When God's almighty breath Said to the darkness and the Night, Let there be light! and there was light.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ah, the souls of those that die Are but sunbeams lifted higher.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In the mouths of many men soft words are like roses that soldiers put into the muzzles of their muskets on holidays.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
