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I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls, The burial-ground God's-Acre.
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
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Every man has a paradise around him till he sins, and the angel of an accusing conscience drives him from his Eden.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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)
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
'Tis always morning somewhere, and aboveThe awakening continents, from shore to shore,Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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
Fame grows like a tree if it have the principle of growth in it the accumulated dews of ages freshen its leaves.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
With many readers, brilliancy of style passes for affluence of thought they mistake buttercups in the grass for immeasurable gold mines under ground.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
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The things that have been and shall be no more, The things that are, and that hereafter shall be, The things that might have been, and yet were not, The fading twilight of joys departed.
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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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Welcome, my old friend, Welcome to a foreign fireside.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Today is the blocks with which we build.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Man is unjust, but God is just and finally justice triumphs.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.
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
None but yourself who are your greatest foe.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
