Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Born in February 27, 1807 / Died in March 24, 1882 / United States / English
Quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong.
The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.
Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.
Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied.
How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it, except the pleasure of seeing it
The world loves a spice of wickedness.
Into each life some rain must fall, some days be dark and dreary.
Life is real! Life is earnest! And death is not its goal. Dust thou art, to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.
No literature is complete until the language it was written in is dead.
Learn to labour and to wait.
I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, who has sight so keen and strong That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroken; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
We judge ourselves by what we are capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
I stood on the bridge at midnight, / As the clocks were striking the hour.
There was a little girl Who had a little curl...
Let us, then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait.
Let us, then, be up and doing, with a heart for any fate Still achieving, still pursuing, learn to labor and to wait.
I venerate old age; and I love not the man who can look without emotion upon the sunset of life, when the dusk of evening begins to gather over the watery eye, and the shadows of twilight grow broader and deeper upon the understanding.
Give what you have. To some it may be better than you dare think.
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.
Men of genius are often dull and inert in society, as a blazing meteor when it descends to earth, is only a stone.
For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress, and as the evening twilight fades away, the sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear.
The shades of night were falling fast, / As through an Alpine village passed / A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, / A banner with the strange device, / Excelsior!
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!—...
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,Life is but an empty dreamFor the soul is dead that slumbers,and things are not what they seem.Life is real Life is earnestAnd the grave is not its goalDust thou art to dust returnest,Was not spoken of the soul.
