Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes - Page 3

God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth That they might touch the hearts of men And bring them back to heaven again.

For after all, the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain.

Go forth to meet the shadowy Future without fear and with a manly heart.

I heard the bells on Christmas DayTheir old, familiar carols play,And wild and sweetThe words repeatOf peace on earth, good-will to men!

Act-act in the living present!

Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate you are sure to wake up somebody.

Being all fashioned of the self-same dust. Let us be merciful as well as just.

I have you fast in my fortress,And will not let you depart,But put you down into the dungeon,In the round-tower of my heart,And there will I keep you forever,Yes, forever and a day,Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,And moulder in the dust away!

None but yourself who are your greatest foe.

Thou driftest gently down the tides of sleep.

Ah how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.

I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart

Music is the universal language of mankind.

No one is so accursed by fate No one so utterly desolate But some heart though unknown Responds unto his own.

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

Straight between them ran the pathway,Never grew the grass upon it

The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,And all the sweet serenity of books

When Christ ascended Triumphantly from star to star He left the gates of Heaven ajar.

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

There was a little girl And she had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead When she was good she was very very good When she was bad she was horrid.

We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing while others judge us by what we have already done.

He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.

A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain.

If you would hit the mark you must aim a little above it every arrow that flies feels the attraction of earth.

The purpose of that apple tree is to grow a little new wood each year. That is what I plan to do.

O, how wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul! The intellect of man sits enthroned visibly upon his forehead and in his eye; and the heart of man is written upon his countenance. But the soul reveals itself in the voice only; as God revealed himself to the prophet of old in the still, small voice; and in a voice from the burning bush. The soul of man is audible, not visible. A sound alone betrays the flowing of the eternal fountain, invisible to man!

Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak.

The world loves a spice of wickedness.

Each morning sees some task begin each evening sees it close Something attempted something done has earned a night's repose.

Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful soundSeems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught;Seal up the hundred wakeful eyes of thoughtAs Hermes with his lyre in sleep profoundThe hundred wakeful eyes of Argus bound;For I am weary, and am overwroughtWith too much toil, with too much care distraught,And with the iron crown of anguish crowned.Lay thy soft hand upon my brow and cheek,O peaceful Sleep! until from pain releasedI breathe again uninterrupted breath!Ah, with what subtile meaning did the GreekCall thee the lesser mystery at the feastWhereof the greater mystery is death!

The nearer the dawnthe darker the night.

The bravest are the tenderest. The loving are the daring.

And the night shall be filled with music And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the Arabs And as silently steal away.

Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng but in ourselves are triumph and defeat.

Be still sad heart and cease repining Behind the clouds is the sun still shining Thy fate is the common fate of all Into each life some rain must fall Some days must be dark and dreary.

Write on your doors the saying wise and old,"Be bold! be bold!" and everywhere-- "Be bold;Be not too bold!" Yet better the excessThan the defect; better the more than less;Better like Hector in the field to die,Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly,

Art is long, and Time is fleeting.

Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.