Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.

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As great Pythagoras of yore, Standing beside the blacksmith's door, And hearing the hammers, as they smote The anvils with a different note, Stole from the varying tones, that hung Vibrant on every iron tongue, The secret of the sounding wire. And formed the seven-chorded lyre.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Iron Quotes , Doors Quotes

O suffering, sad humanity! O ye afflicted ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery, Longing, yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried!

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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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More hearts are breaking in this world of ours Than one would say. In distant villages And solitudes remote, where winds have wafted The barbed seeds of love, or birds of passage Scattered them in their flight, do they take root, And grow in silence, and in silence perish.

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Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.

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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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Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings.

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Look, then, into thine heart, and write!

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In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the Gods are everywhere

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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

Then from the neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.

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Thought takes man out of servitude, into freedom.

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A noble type of good. Heroic womanhood.

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Even cities have their graves!

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A town that boasts inhabitants like me Can have no lack of good society.

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Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.

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The emigrant's way o'er the western desert is mark'd by Camp-fires long consum'd and bones that bleach in the sunshine.

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Then stars arise, and the night is holy.

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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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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Stars Quotes , Self Quotes