Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night!

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In the mouths of many men soft words are like roses that soldiers put into the muzzles of their muskets on holidays.

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In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face the face of one long dead Looks at me from the wall, where round its head The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.

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With many readers, brilliancy of style passes for affluence of thought; they mistake buttercups in the grass for immeasurable gold mines under ground.

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Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, Life's golden fruit is shed.

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Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

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O thou sculptor, painter, poet! Take this lesson to thy heart: That is best which lieth nearest; Shape from that thy work of art.

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Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

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Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought!

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I am the Angel of the Sun Whose flaming wheels began to run When God's almighty breath Said to the darkness and the Night, Let there be light! and there was light.

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The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.

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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.

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No endeavour is in vain; Its reward is in the doing.

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Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us.

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When Christ ascended Triumphantly from star to star He left the gates of Heaven ajar.

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Tis always morning somewhere.

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Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter!

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The low desire, the base design That makes another's virtues less.

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In the lives of the saddest of us, there are bright days like this, when we feel as if we could take the great world in our arms and kiss it. Then come the gloomy hours, when the fire will neither burn on our hearths nor in our hearts; and all without and within is dismal, cold, and dark. Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.

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Buried was the bloody hatchet; Buried was the dreadful war-club; Buried were all warlike weapons, And the war-cry was forgotten. Then was peace among the nations.

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