Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

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!

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Love Quotes , Time Quotes

The mind of the scholar, if you would have it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds. It is better that his armor should be somewhat bruised by rude encounters even, than hang forever rusting on the wall.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Wall Quotes , Knowledge Quotes

Time has a doomsday book, upon whose pages he is continually recording illustrious names. But as often as a new name is written there, an old one disappears. Only a few stand in illuminated characters never to be effaced.

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Think not because no man sees, such things will remain unseen.

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Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose.

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Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.

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The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.

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Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, a shadow on those features fair and thin. And softly, from the hushed and darkened room, two angels issued, where but one went in.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Death Quotes , Angel Quotes

Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of passion with from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.

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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.

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God's voice was not in the earthquake, Not in the fire, nor the storm, but it was in the whispering breezes.

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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.

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The Nile, forever new and old, Among the living and the dead, Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.

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And when she was good she was very very good. But when she was bad she was horrid.

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Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.

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The air is full of farewells to the dying. And mournings for the dead.

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The picture that approaches sculpture nearest Is the best picture.

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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!

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What shall I say to you? What can I say Better than silence is?

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The student has his Rome, his Florence, his whole glowing Italy, within the four walls of his library. He has in his books the ruins of an antique world and the glories of a modern one.

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