Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!

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For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

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Doubtless criticism was originally benignant, pointing out the beauties of a work rather that its defects. The passions of men have made it malignant, as a bad heart of Procreates turned the bed, the symbol of repose, into an instrument of torture.

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Then read from the treasured volume the poem of thy choice, and lend to the rhyme of the poet the beauty of thy voice.

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I promise myself great pleasure from my visit to England. You know I am to stay with Dickens while in London; and beside his own very agreeable society, I shall enjoy that of the most noted literary men of the day, which will be a great gratification to me.

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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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And the bright faces of my young companions Are wrinkled like my own, or are no more.

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In ourselves are triumph and defeat.

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

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The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveler to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls.

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So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest.

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How absolute and omnipotent is the silence of night! And yet the stillness seems almost audible! From all the measureless depths of air around us comes a half-sound, a half-whisper, as if we could hear the crumbling and falling away of earth and all created things, in the great miracle of nature, decay and reproduction, ever beginning, never ending,--the gradual lapse and running of the sand in the great hour-glass of Time.

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I am more afraid of deserving criticism than of receiving it. I stand in awe of my own opinion. The secret demerits of which we alone, perhaps, are conscious, are often more difficult to bear than those which have been publicly censured in us, and thus in some degree atoned for.

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If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!

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They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again.

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Hope has as many lives as a cat or a king.

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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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'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.

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Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

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A spirit of criticism, if indulged in, leads to a censoriousness of disposition that is destructive of all nobler feeling. The man who lives to find faults has a miserable mission.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Gratitude Quotes , Men Quotes