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Tomorrow is the mysterious, unknown guest.
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
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Unknown
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Tomorrow
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
None but yourself who are your greatest foe.
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
Thus, seamed with many scars Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal! Thus the tale ended.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
When thou are not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in anger.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The emigrant's way o'er the western desert is mark'd by Camp-fires long consum'd and bones that bleach in the sunshine.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Kingdom of Ponemah, To the Land of the Hereafter!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The market-place, the eager love of gain, Whose aim is vanity, and whose end is pain!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He looks the whole world in the face for he owes not any man.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Love is a bodily shape and Christian works are no more than animate faith and love, as flowers are the animate springtide.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Learn to labour and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
More hearts are breaking in this world of ours Than one would say. In distant villages And solitudes remote, where winds have wafted The barbed seeds of love, or birds of passage Scattered them in their flight, do they take root, And grow in silence, and in silence perish.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death Wild and fast blew the blast, And the east-wind was his breath.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
