Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes
Most popular Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes
Art is power.
Thy voice is celestial melody.
Genius is infinite painstaking.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting.
Music is the universal language of man.
Look, then, into thine heart and write.
Hope has as many lives as a cat or king.
I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star.
Music is the universal language of mankind.
A thought often makes us hotter than a fire.
All things come round to those who will wait.
Many a poem is marred by a superfluous verse.
Who dares To say that he alone has found the truth?
Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.
When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it.
Joy, moderation, and repose slam the door on the doctor's nose.
Through woods and mountain passes the winds, like anthems roll.
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul.
Great is the art of beginning, but greater the art is of ending.
In youth all doors open outward; in old age they all open inward.
God sent his singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth.
Sometimes we may learn more from a man's errors than from his virtues.
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Thy fate is the common fate of all; into each life some rain must fall.
And the song from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of friend.
A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing being criticized.
Being all fashioned of the self-same dust, let us be merciful as well as just.
Noble souls, through dust and heat, Rise from disaster and defeat The stronger.
As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so change of studies a dull brain.
It takes less time to do a thing right than it does to explain why you did it wrong.
Music is the universal language of mankind—poetry their universal pastime and delight.
Oh, well it has been said, that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.
Most people would succeed in small things, if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing; others judge us by what we have done.
He that respects himself is safe from others; He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.
There's nothing in this world so sweet as love. And next to love the sweetest thing is hate.
The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.
Yea, music is the prophet's art; among the gifts that God hath sent, one of the most magnificent.
Every man is in some sort a failure to himself. No one ever reaches the heights to which he aspires.
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
Youth wrenches the sceptre from old age, and sets the crown on its own head before it is entitled to it.
All that is best in the great poets of all countries is not what is national in them, but what is universal.
Write on your doors the saying wise and old: 'Be bold! Be bold! And everywhere — Be bold! But not too bold.'
The holiest of holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart.
Take this sorrow to thy heart, and make it a part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong again.
We often excuse our own want of philanthropy by giving the name of fanaticism to the more ardent zeal of others.
If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it: Every arrow that flies feels the attraction of earth.
Men of genius are often dull and inert in society, as the blazing meteor when it descends to earth, is only a stone.
Let us, then, be up and doing, with a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, learn to labor and to wait.
His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime and, departing, leave behind us footprints in the sands of time.
Believe me, every heart has his secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.
Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.
A great part of the happiness of life consists not in fighting battles, but in avoiding them. A masterly retreat is in itself a victory.
Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.
If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day, Shall hold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.
Age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress. And as the evening twilight fades away the sky is filled with stars invisible by day.
Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age in purple.
The first pressure of sorrow crushes out from our hearts the best wine; afterwards the constant weight of it brings forth bitterness—the taste and stain from the lees of the vat.
This is the forest primeval, the murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic.
Many readers judge the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings—as some savage tribes determine the power of muskets by their recoil; that being considered best which fairly prostrates the purchaser.
In old age our bodies are worn-out instruments, on which the soul tries in vain to play the melodies of youth. But because the instrument has lost its strings, or is out of tune, it does not follow that the musician has lost his skill.
Oh, there is nothing holier, in this life of ours, than the first consciousness of love—the first fluttering of its silken wings; the first rising sound and breath of wind which is so soon to sweep through the soul, to purify or to destroy!
Some critics are like chimney-sweepers; they put out the fire below, or frighten the swallows from their nests above; they scrape a long time in the chimney, cover themselves with soot, and bring nothing away but a bag of cinders, and then sing from the top of the house as if they had built it.
To be seventy years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the deep valley stretching miles and miles away, and before you other summits higher and whiter, which you may have strength to climb, or may not. Then you sit down and meditate and wonder which it will be.
Into each life some rain must fall, some days must be dark and dreary.
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
There's nothing in this world so sweet as love, And next to love the sweetest thing is hate!
If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it; Every arrow that flies feels the attraction of earth.
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.
The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.
Age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
