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Be thy sleep Silent as night is, and as deep.
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
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Writer
Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Silent
Deep
Sleep
Night
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It is the heart and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Not chance of birth or place has made us friends, Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations, But the endeavor for the selfsame ends, With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And the bright faces of my young companions Are wrinkled like my own, or are no more.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children, and I like to have them liked.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Every author has the whole past to contend with all the centuries are upon him. He is compared with Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Learn to labour and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tis always morning somewhere.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The soul never grows old.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Think of your woods and orchards without birds! Of empty nests that cling to boughs and beams As in an idiot's brain remembered words Hang empty 'mid the cobwebs of his dreams!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For next to being a great poet is the power of understanding one.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
What is time? The shadow on the dial, the striking of the clock, the running of the sand, day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries-these are but arbitrary and outward signs, the measure of Time, not Time itself. Time is the Life of the Soul.
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
In ourselves are triumph and defeat.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ah, Nothing is too late, till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow