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A word that has been said may be unsaid-it is but air. But when a deed is done, it cannot be undone, nor can our thoughts reach out to all the mischiefs that may follow.
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
Reach
Done
Air
Follow
Mischiefs
Thoughts
Unsaid
Hurt
Undone
Mischief
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Deed
Cannot
Deeds
May
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Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.
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The soul...is audible, not visible.
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When Christ ascended Triumphantly from star to star He left the gates of Heaven ajar.
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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.
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If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me, Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me? If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!
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My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
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How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and the heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
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And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
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Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter!
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Kind hearts are the gardens, Kind thoughts are the roots, Kind words are the flowers, Kind deeds are the fruits, Take care of your garden And keep out the weeds, Fill it with sunshine, Kind words, and Kind deeds.
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Dreams or illusions, call them what you will, they lift us from the commonplace of life to better things.
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Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.
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Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.
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How can I teach your children gentleness and mercy to the weak, and reverence for life, which in its nakedness and excess, is still a gleam of God's omnipotence, when by your laws, your actions and your speech, you contradict the very things I teach?
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The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark
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Learn to labour and to wait.
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The Laws of Nature are just, but terrible. There is no weak mercy in them. Cause and consequence are inseparable and inevitable.
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The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.
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The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.
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