Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

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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No endeavour is in vain; Its reward is in the doing.

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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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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Lying Quotes , Humanity Quotes

Many critics are like woodpeckers, who, instead of enjoying the fruit and shadow of a tree, hop incessantly around the trunk, pecking holes in the bark to discover some little worm or other.

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Every author has the whole past to contend with; all the centuries are upon him. He is compared with Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton.

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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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Let us, then, be what we are; speak what we think; and in all things keep ourselves loyal to truth.

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It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.

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The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers.

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At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast.

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No man is so poor as that. As well might the mountain streamlets say they have nothing worth giving to the sea, because they are not rivers. Give what you have. To some one, it may be better than you dare to think.

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The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.

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A word that has been said may be unsaid-it is but air. But when a deed is done, it cannot be undone, nor can our thoughts reach out to all the mischiefs that may follow.

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All the means of action -- the shapeless masses -- the materials -- lie everywhere about us. What we need is the celestial fire to change the flint into the transparent crystal, bright and clear. That fire is genius.

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My designs and labors and aspirations are my only friends.

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Youth comes but once in a lifetime.

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There is nothing perfectly secure but poverty.

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Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose.

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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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Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike.

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