Quote

The mind of the scholar, if you would have it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds. It is better that his armor should be somewhat bruised by rude encounters even, than hang forever rusting on the wall.

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
Even
Contact
Bruised
Mind
Minds
Armor
Would
Large
Rude
Wall
Somewhat
Forever
Scholar
Knowledge
Encounters
Better
Liberal
Come
Hang
Rusting

More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air.
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Let nothing disturb thee, Nothing affright thee All things are passing God never changeth Patient endurance Attaineth to all things Who God possesseth In nothing is wanting Alone God sufficeth.
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Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.
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Nothing that is can pause or stay / The moon will wax, the moon will wane, / The mist and cloud will turn to rain, / The rain to mist and cloud again, / Tomorrow be today.
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Day of the Lord, as all our days should be!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
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Look, then, into thine heart, and write! Yes, into Life's deep stream! All forms of sorrow and delight, All solemn Voices of the Night, That can soothe thee, or affright, - Be these henceforth thy theme. (excerpt from Voices of the Night)
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O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares!
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The soul...is audible, not visible.
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Live up to the best that is in you: Live noble lives, as you all may, in whatever condition you may find yourselves.
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A boy's will is the wind's will.
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For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, In sombre harness mailed, Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, The rampart wall has scaled. He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, The dark and silent room, And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper, The silence and the gloom.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Ah, the souls of those that die Are but sunbeams lifted higher.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The motives and purposes of authors are not always so pure and high, as, in the enthusiasm of youth, we sometimes imagine. To many the trumpet of fame is nothing but a tin horn to call them home, like laborers from, the field, at dinner-time, and they think themselves lucky to get the dinner.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Every man has a paradise around him till he sins, and the angel of an accusing conscience drives him from his Eden.
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Buried was the bloody hatchet Buried was the dreadful war-club Buried were all warlike weapons, And the war-cry was forgotten. Then was peace among the nations.
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O Music! language of the soul, Of love, of God to man Bright beam from heaven thrilling, That lightens sorrow's weight.
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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.
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All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.
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How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and the heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow