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I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those only are beautiful which, like the planets, have a steady lambent light, are luminous, but not sparkling.
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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Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Youth wrenches the sceptre from old age, and sets the crown on its own head before it is entitled to it.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The world loves a spice of wickedness.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A spirit of criticism, if indulged in, leads to a censoriousness of disposition that is destructive of all nobler feeling. The man who lives to find faults has a miserable mission.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
But ah! what once has been shall be no more! The groaning earth in travail and in pain Brings forth its races, but does not restore, And the dead nations never rise again.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The foods that prolong life and increase purity, vigour, health, cheerfulness, and happiness are those that are delicious, soothing, substantial and agreeable... Foods that are bitter, sour, salt, over-hot, pungent, dry and burning produce unhappiness, repentance and disease.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Fear is the virtue of slaves but the heart that loveth is willing.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, and silently steal away.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ah, Nothing is too late, till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
They are dead but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Out of the shadows of night The world rolls into light.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nature is a revelation of God Art a revelation of man.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow