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It is Lucifer, The son of mystery And since God suffers him to be, He too, is God's minister, And labors for some good By us not understood.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
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Longfellow
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
They are dead but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
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Death is better than disease.
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Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
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O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet.
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It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought! Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery we build where monsters used to hide themselves.
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An angel visited the green earth, and took a flower away.
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The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark
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You would attain to the divine perfection.
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My own thoughts Are my companions.
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Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!
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The true poet is a friendly man. He takes to his arms even cold and inanimate things, and rejoices in his heart.
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I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart
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They who go Feel not the pain of parting it is they Who stay behind that suffer.
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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.
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It is difficult to know at what moment love begins it is less difficult to know that it has begun.
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When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
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The happy should not insist too much upon their happiness in the presence of the unhappy.
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If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
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To say the least, a town life makes one more tolerant and liberal in one's judgment of others.
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Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.
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