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A millstone and the human heart are driven ever round, If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves be ground.
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
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Heart
Ground
Fate
Else
Ever
Millstone
Human
Grind
Humans
Round
Nothing
Rounds
Must
Driven
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Look not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.
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
Shepherds at the grange, Where the Babe was born, Sang with many a change, Christmas carols until morn.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Well I know the secret places, And the nests in hedge and tree At what doors are friendly faces, In what hearts are thoughts of me.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Oh, what a glory doth this world put on, for him who with a fervent heart goes forth under the bright and glorious sky, and looks on duties well performed, and days well spent.
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
Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A spirit of criticism, if indulged in, leads to a censoriousness of disposition that is destructive of all nobler feeling. The man who lives to find faults has a miserable mission.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It is true, that it is not at all necessary to love many books, in order to love them much.
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
Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Time rides with the old At a great pace. As travellers on swift steeds See the near landscape fly and flow behind them, While the remoter fields and dim horizons Go with them, and seem wheeling round to meet them, So in old age things near us slip away, And distant things go with us.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In ourselves are triumph and defeat.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The soul never grows old.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life like an empty dream flits by.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
