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Many a poem is marred by a superfluous verse.
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
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And the bright faces of my young companions Are wrinkled like my own, or are no more.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children, and I like to have them liked.
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
Day of the Lord, as all our days should be!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The history of the past is a mere puppet-show. A little man comes out and blows a little trumpet, and goes in again. You look for something new, and lo! another little man comes out, and blows another little trumpet, and goes in again. And it is all over.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tomorrow is the mysterious, unknown guest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Weak minds make treaties with the passions they cannot overcome, and try to purchase happiness at the expense of principle but the resolute will of a strong man scorns such means, and struggles nobly with his foe to achieve great deeds.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time.
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
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Kingdom of Ponemah, To the Land of the Hereafter!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Every author has the whole past to contend with all the centuries are upon him. He is compared with Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mine is the Month of Roses yes, and mine The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine, The foliage of the valleys and the heights. Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights The mower's scythe makes music to my ear I am the mother of all dear delights I am the fairest daughter of the year.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
If we could read the secret history of our enemies.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The atmosphere breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers seem full of welcomes.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of passion with from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
