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Perhaps the greatest lesson which the lives of literary men teach us is told in a single word* Wait!
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
Out of the shadows of night The world rolls into light.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Learn to labour and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!
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
And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, and silently steal away.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, to some good angel leave the rest For Time will teach thee soon the truth, there are no birds in last year's nest!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I feel a kind of reverence for the first books of young authors. There is so much aspiration in them, so much audacious hope and trembling fear, so much of the heart's history, that all errors and shortcomings are for a while lost sight of in the amiable self assertion of youth.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Kind messages, that pass from land to land Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history, In which we feel the pressure of a hand,-- One touch of fire,--and all the rest is mystery!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It is Lucifer, The son of mystery And since God suffers him to be, He too, is God's minister, And labors for some good By us not understood.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.
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
Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
But the great Master said, I see No best in kind, but in degree I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Feeling is deep and still and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
More and more do I feel, as I advance in life, how little we really know of each other. Friendship seems to me like the touch of musical-glasses--it is only contact but the glasses themselves, and their contents, remain quite distinct and unmingled.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest so gently, that we go, Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, Being too full of sleep to understand How far the unknown transcends the what we know.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
