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With useless endeavour Forever, forever, Is Sisyphus rolling His stone up the mountain!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Stones
Mountain
Forever
Action
Sisyphus
Endeavour
Rolling
Stone
Useless
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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
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
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
If we could read the secret history of our enemies.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature, That fashions all her works in high relief, And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth, Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire Men, women, and all animals that breathe Are statues, and not paintings.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul. The intellect of man is enthroned visibly on his forehead and in his eye, and the heart of man is written on his countenance, but the soul, the soul reveals itself in the voice only.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tomorrow is the mysterious, unknown guest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The country is not priest-ridded, but press-ridden.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The country is lyric, the town dramatic. When mingled, they make the most perfect musical drama.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One, if by land, and two, if by sea And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm For the country folk to be up and to arm.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life like an empty dream flits by.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
