Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

What else remains for me? Youth, hope and love; To build a new life on a ruined life.

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Being all fashioned of the self-same dust, let us be merciful as well as just

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Is this is a dream? O, if it be a dream, Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet!

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There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful.

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That was the first sound in the song of love! Scarce more than silence is, and yet a sound. Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings Of that mysterious instrument, the soul, And play the prelude of our fate. We hear The voice prophetic, and are not alone.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Life Quotes , Song Quotes

Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow, Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping.Under the humble walls of the little catholic churchyard,In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed;Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them,Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever,Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy,Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors,Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey!

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That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

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Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it.

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Labor with what zeal we will, Something still remains undone, Something uncompleted still Waits the rising of the sun.

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Much must he toil who serves the Immortal Gods.

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Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees it close.

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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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Take this sorrow to thy heart and make it part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong again.

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I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children, and I like to have them liked.

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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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O summer day beside the joyous sea! O summer day so wonderful and white, So full of gladness and so full of pain! Forever and forever shalt thou be To some the gravestone of a dead delight, To some the landmark of a new domain.

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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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He had mittens, Minjekahwun, Magic mittens made of deer-skin; When upon his hands he wore them, He could smite the rocks asunder, He could grind them into powder.

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Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice.

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Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Sorrow Quotes , Bed Quotes