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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes - Page 15

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Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again.

Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Past, Looks, One Tree Hill Love
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.2016, Delphi Classics

Perhaps the greatest lesson which the lives of literary men teach us is told in a single word* Wait!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Men, Waiting, Lessons
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.1882, Delphi Classics

Life is the gift of God, and is divine.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life, Life Is, Divine
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.807, Delphi Classics

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Strong, Silence, Sorrow
'Giotto's Tower' (1866)

The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Inspirational, Hope, Gone
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1853). “Hyperion, illustr. from drawings by B. Foster”, p.4

Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life, Masculine And Feminine, Perfect
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.1061, Delphi Classics

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sympathy, Condolences, Losing A Loved One
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1849). “Hyperion: A Romance”, p.233

You would attain to the divine perfection.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Perfection, Divine
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “The Complete Poems of Longfellow”, Library of Alexandria

I heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls! I felt her presence, by its spell of might, Stoop o'er me from above; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Wall, Night, Light
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1867). “The Poetical Works of H. W. Longfellow. Complete Edition”, p.2

With many readers, brilliancy of style passes for affluence of thought; they mistake buttercups in the grass for immeasurable gold mines under ground.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mistake, Writing, Style
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1851). “The prose works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”, p.429

A boy's will is the wind's will, and the thought's of youth are long, long thoughhts

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Love, Boys, Wind
'My Lost Youth' (1858)

Ah, yes, the sea is still and deep, All things within its bosom sleep! A single step, and all is o'er, A plunge, a bubble, and no more.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Suicide, Sleep, Sea
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1867). “The Poetical Works of H. W. Longfellow. Complete Edition”, p.188

All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Rain, Weather, Silent
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1873). “Tales of a Wayside Inn”, p.150

The moon is hidden behind a cloud... On the leaves is a sound of falling rain... No other sounds than these I hear; The hour of midnight must be near... So many ghosts, and forms of fright, Have started from their graves to-night, They have driven sleep from mine eyes away: I will go down to the chapel and pray.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Fall, Rain, Sleep
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Golden Legend: Iv. The Road To Hirschau”

Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater To raise the dead to life than to create Phantoms that seem to live.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sculpture, Phantoms, Painting
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2008). “Michael Angelo and Translations”, p.146, Wildside Press LLC

I am more afraid of deserving criticism than of receiving it. I stand in awe of my own opinion. The secret demerits of which we alone, perhaps, are conscious, are often more difficult to bear than those which have been publicly censured in us, and thus in some degree atoned for.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Secret, Criticism, Receiving
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1853). “Kavanagh: A Tale”, p.184

I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows. Henceforth be mine a life of action and reality! I will work in my own sphere, nor wish it other than it is. This alone is health and happiness.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Reality, Men, Dreamer
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1854). “The Works: Hyperion”, p.225

And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Air, Water, Noise

But the good deed, through the ages Living in historic pages, Brighter grows and gleams immortal, Unconsumed by moth or rust.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age, Rust, Deeds
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1848). “Poems”, p.102

It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought! Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery; we build where monsters used to hide themselves.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sea, Progress, Monsters
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “Kavanagh (Annotated Edition)”, p.47, Jazzybee Verlag

Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Men, Clouds, Centaurs
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1887). “Final Memorials of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”

Make not thyself the judge of any man.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Men, Judging, Prison
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “My Complete Poetical Works (Annotated Edition)”, p.810, Jazzybee Verlag

Authors have a greater right than any copyright, though it is generally unacknowledged or disregarded. They have a right to the reader's civility. There are favorable hours for reading a book, as for writing it, and to these the author has a claim. Yet many people think that when they buy a book they buy with it the right to abuse the author.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Book, Reading, Writing
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1872). “Kavanagh: And Other Pieces”, p.364

There's not a ship that sails the ocean, But every climate, every soil, Must bring its tribute, great or small, And help to build the wooden wall!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Wall, Ocean, Climate
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”, p.184

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Death, Flower, Names
"The Reaper and the Flowers" st. 1 (1839)

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