Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Feet Quotes , Vices Quotes

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.

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By unseen hands uplifted in the light Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad, And wafted up to heaven.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Sunset Quotes , Clouds Quotes

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed; I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.

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What shall I say to you? What can I say Better than silence is?

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However things may seem, no evil thing is success and no good thing is failure.

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Look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in anger.

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Art is the gift of God, and must be used unto His glory.

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O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet.

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

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind in never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.

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From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.

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Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

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Thus, seamed with many scars Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal! Thus the tale ended.

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O little souls! as pure as white And crystalline as rays of light Direct from heaven, their source divine; Refracted through the mist of years, How red my setting sun appears, How lurid looks this soul of mine!

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Years Quotes , White Quotes

Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest art of all the arts. Painting and sculpture are but images, Are merely shadows cast by outward things On stone or canvas, having in themselves No separate existence. Architecture, Existing in itself, and not in seeming A something it is not, surpasses them As substance shadow.

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A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child.

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Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

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Silence and solitude, the soul's best friends.

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The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.

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If you once understand an author's character, the comprehension of his writings becomes easy.

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