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I love the season well When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming of storms.

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
Forms
April
Coming
Forest
Dark
Season
Form
Forests
Wells
Bright
Foretell
Well
Storm
Teeming
Many
Seasons
Folded
Love
Clouds
Storms

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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.
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Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.
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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.
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Success is not something to wait for, it is something to work for.
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Magnificent autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds not like a hermit, clad in gray but like a warrior with the stain of blood in his brazen mail.
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The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the full river of feeling overflows- The happy days unclouded to their close The sudden joys that our of darkness start As flames from ashes swift desires that dart Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
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A torn jacket is soon mended but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
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A stiff letter galls one like a stiff shirt collar -- whilst a sheet garnished here and there with a careless blot -- and here and there a dash -- but in the main full of excellent matter, is like a clever fellow in a dirty shirt whom we value for the good humour he brings with him and not for the garb he wears.
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Oh, what a glory doth this world put on, for him who with a fervent heart goes forth under the bright and glorious sky, and looks on duties well performed, and days well spent.
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The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well, and doing well whatever you do without thought of fame. If it comes at all it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after.
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Much must he toil who serves the Immortal Gods.
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We often excuse our own want of philanthropy by giving the name of fanaticism to the more ardent zeal of others.
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Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.
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The smoking flax before it burst to flame Was quenched by death, and broken the bruised reed.
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I stay a little longer, as one stays, to cover up the embers that still burn.
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How in the turmoil of life can love stand, Where there is not one heart, and one mouth and one hand.
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Oh, how beautiful is the summer night, which is not night, but a sunless, yet unclouded, day, descending upon earth with dews and shadows and refreshing coolness! How beautiful the long mild twilight, which, like a silver clasp, unites today with yesterday!
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Time rides with the old At a great pace. As travellers on swift steeds See the near landscape fly and flow behind them, While the remoter fields and dim horizons Go with them, and seem wheeling round to meet them, So in old age things near us slip away, And distant things go with us.
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It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.
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