Quote

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

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
Professor
Translator
Writer
Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Sun
Forests
Vapor
Fire
Landscape
Arose
Came
Evening
Extended
Water
Golden
Softly
Together
Seemed
Magician
Like
Sky
Forest
Vapors
Western
Sunset
Mingled
Touch
Horizon
Melted

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In the mouths of many men soft words are like roses that soldiers put into the muzzles of their muskets on holidays.
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People of a lively imagination are generally curious, and always so when a little in love.
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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!
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The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.
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I have an affection for a great city. I feel safe in the neighborhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of the streets.
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I cannot believe any man can be perfectly well in body, who has much labor of the mind to perform.
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Two ways the rivers Leap down to different seas, and as they roll Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence Becomes a benefaction to the towns They visit, wandering silently among them, Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.
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How wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul. The intellect of man is enthroned visibly on his forehead and in his eye, and the heart of man is written on his countenance, but the soul, the soul reveals itself in the voice only.
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How like they are to human things!
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Every man has a paradise around him till he sins, and the angel of an accusing conscience drives him from his Eden.
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The life of woman is full of woe, Toiling on and on and on, With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, The secret longings that arise, Which this world never satisfies! Some more, some less, but of the whole Not one quite happy, no, not one!
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The air is full of farewells to the dying. And mournings for the dead.
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Think of your woods and orchards without birds! Of empty nests that cling to boughs and beams As in an idiot's brain remembered words Hang empty 'mid the cobwebs of his dreams!
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God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over into this wilderness.
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