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Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Reached
Evening
Sandal
Western
Stooped
Heaven
Sandals
Like
Pilgrim
Gate
Weary
Gates
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Even He that died for us upon the cross, in the last hour, in the unutterable agony of death, was mindful of His mother, as if to teach us that this holy love should be our last worldly thought - the last point of earth from which the soul should take its flight for heaven.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thought takes man out of servitude, into freedom.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The motives and purposes of authors are not always so pure and high, as, in the enthusiasm of youth, we sometimes imagine. To many the trumpet of fame is nothing but a tin horn to call them home, like laborers from, the field, at dinner-time, and they think themselves lucky to get the dinner.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A Lady with a Lamp shall stand In the great history of the land, A noble type of good, Heroic womanhood.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark
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
I stay a little longer, as one stays, to cover up the embers that still burn.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Youth comes but once a life time. Perhaps, but it remains strong in many for their entire lives.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those only are beautiful which, like the planets, have a steady lambent light, are luminous, but not sparkling.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest art of all the arts. Painting and sculpture are but images, Are merely shadows cast by outward things On stone or canvas, having in themselves No separate existence. Architecture, Existing in itself, and not in seeming A something it is not, surpasses them As substance shadow.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I love an author the more for having been himself a lover of books.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A town that boasts inhabitants like me Can have no lack of good society.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I love the season well When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming of storms.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All things come round to him who will but wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The pleasant books, that silently among Our household treasures take familiar places, And are to us as if a living tongue Spake from the printed leaves or pictured faces!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
