Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

The country is lyric, the town dramatic. When mingled, they make the most perfect musical drama.

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To say the least, a town life makes one more tolerant and liberal in one's judgment of others.

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An enlightened mind is not hoodwinked; it is not shut up in a gloomy prison till it thinks the walls of its dungeon the limits of the universe, and the reach of its own chain the outer verge of intelligence.

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Prayer is innocence's friend; and willingly flieth incessant 'twist the earth and the sky, the carrier-pigeon of heaven.

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Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.

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Death is better than disease.

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The nimble lie Is like the second-hand upon a clock; We see it fly; while the hour-hand of truth Seems to stand still, and yet it moves unseen, And wins, at last, for the clock will not strike Till it has reached the goal.

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Our pleasures and our discontents, Are rounds by which we may ascend.

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The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air.

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A great sorrow, like a mariner's quadrant, brings the sun at noon down to the horizon, and we learn where we are on the sea of life.

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The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and the world seems but a dim reflection - itself a broader shadow. We look forward into the coming lonely night. The soul withdraws into itself. Then stars arise, and the night is holy.

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All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.

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Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love and joy and sorrow learn; Something with passion clasp, or perish And in itself to ashes burn.

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"Do not fear! Heaven is as near," He said, "by water as by land!"

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Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.

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Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.

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The market-place, the eager love of gain, Whose aim is vanity, and whose end is pain!

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Perseverance is a great element of success.

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The young may die, but the old must!

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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 eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

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