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'Tis always morning somewhere, and aboveThe awakening continents, from shore to shore,Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.
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
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Shore
Birds
Somewhere
Bird
Singing
Morning
Evermore
Nature
Continents
Always
Awakening
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The student has his Rome, his Florence, his whole glowing Italy, within the four walls of his library. He has in his books the ruins of an antique world and the glories of a modern one.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen my children and you shall hear, Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere
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A torn jacket is soon mended but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
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Nothing useless is, or low Each thing in its place is best And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Man is unjust, but God is just and finally justice triumphs.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Silence and solitude, the soul's best friends.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Write on your doors the saying wise and old, Be bold! be bold! and everywhere - Be bold Be not too bold! Yet better the excess Than the defect better the more than less Better like Hector in the field to die, Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly.
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The Wreck of the Hesperus But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Feeling is deep and still and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.
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Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In ourselves are triumph and defeat.
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The first pressure of sorrow crushes out from our hearts the best wine afterwards the constant weight of it brings forth bitterness, the taste and stain from the lees of the vat.
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Beautiful in form and feature, lovely as the day, can there be so fair a creature formed of common clay?
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I do not love thee less for what is done, And cannot be undone. Thy very weakness Hath brought thee nearer to me, and henceforth My love will have a sense of pity in it, Making it less a worship than before.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Some critics are like chimney-sweepers they put out the fire below, and frighten the swallows from their nests above they scrape a long time in the chimney, cover themselves with soot, and bring nothing away but a bag of cinders, and then sing from the top of the house as if they had built it.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
