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Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice.
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
Becomes
Justice
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Men
Magistrate
Vindictive
Magistrates
Wrath
Mercy
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
White swan of cities slumbering in thy nest . . . White phantom city, whose untrodden streets Are rivers, and whose pavements are the shifting Shadows of the palaces and strips of sky.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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
Tomorrow is the mysterious, unknown guest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
We often excuse our own want of philanthropy by giving the name of fanaticism to the more ardent zeal of others.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
You would attain to the divine perfection.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Fair words gladden so many a heart.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am weary of your quarrels, Weary of your wars and bloodshed, Weary of your prayers for vengeance, Of your wranglings and dissensions
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Be thy sleep Silent as night is, and as deep.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
To be strong is to be happy!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In what a forge and what a heat were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock 'Tis of the wave and not the rock.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All your strength is in union, all your danger is in discord.
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
Only a look and a voice then darkness again and silence.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
