Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

With useless endeavour Forever, forever, Is Sisyphus rolling His stone up the mountain!

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Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny.

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In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!

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These stars of earth, these golden flowers.

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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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Work is my recreation, The play of faculty; a delight like that Which a bird feels in flying, or a fish In darting through the water,--Nothing more.

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The prayer of Ajax was for light.

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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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O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road!

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Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught In schools, some graduate of the field or street, Who shall become a master of art, An admiral sailing the high seas of thought Fearless and first, and steering with his fleet For lands not yet laid down in any chart.

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Don't cross the bridge til you come to it.

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Life is the gift of God, and is divine.

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The shadows of the mind are like those of the body. In the morning of life they all lie behind us; at noon we trample them under foot; and in the evening they stretch long, broad, and deepening before us.

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For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter Of the Eternal's language; - on earth it is called Forgiveness!

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It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.

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A stiff letter galls one like a stiff shirt collar -- whilst a sheet garnished here and there with a careless blot -- and here and there a dash -- but in the main full of excellent matter, is like a clever fellow in a dirty shirt whom we value for the good humour he brings with him and not for the garb he wears.

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The young may die, but the old must!

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Fear is the virtue of slaves; but the heart that loveth is willing.

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No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart though unknown responds unto his own.

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There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary.

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