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Man is unjust, but God is just and finally justice triumphs.
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
Unjust
Triumph
Injustice
Finally
Justice
Men
Triumphs
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, Life's golden fruit is shed.
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
As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical.
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Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.
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The grave itself is but a covered bridge, Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For bells are the voice of the church They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old.
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In what a forge and what a heat were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock 'Tis of the wave and not the rock.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.
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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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Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
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A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
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Listen my children and you shall hear, Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere
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Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead!
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As the heart is, so is love to the heart. It partakes of its strength or weakness, its health or disease.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I love thee, as the good love heaven.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.
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The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
