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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes - Page 7

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Nothing with God can be accidental.

Nothing with God can be accidental.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Laying Down
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1912). “The complete poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”, p.1679, Library of Alexandria

Whatever hath been written shall remain, Nor be erased nor written o'er again; The unwritten only still belongs to thee: Take heed, and ponder well what that shall be.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thee, Authorship, Pondering
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.917, Delphi Classics

People of a lively imagination are generally curious, and always so when a little in love.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
People, Imagination, Curiosity
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1851). “Hyperion, and Kavanagh”, p.149

Nothing that is can pause or stay; / The moon will wax, the moon will wane, / The mist and cloud will turn to rain, / The rain to mist and cloud again, / Tomorrow be today.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Change, Rain, Moon
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.956, Delphi Classics

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Writing, Character, Easy
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1851). “The prose works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”, p.19

How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beautiful, Morning, Twilight
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1852). “The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. With Illustrations by John Gilbert”, p.272

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Children, Heart, Parenting
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, J. D. McClatchy (2000). “Poems and Other Writings”, p.796, Library of America

Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Eye, Shining, Bud
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1848). “Poems”, p.10

Every man is in some sort a failure to himself. No one ever reaches the heights to which he aspires.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Failure, Men, Height
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1888). “Longfellow's Days: The Longfellow Prose Birthday Book : Extracts from the Journals and Letters of H. W. Longfellow”

The holiest of holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Heart, Holiday, Self
'The Ladder of Saint Augustine' (1850)

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Dream, Strong, Eye
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, J. D. McClatchy (2000). “Poems and Other Writings”, p.339, Library of America

Great men stand like solitary towers in the city of God.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Greatness, Men, Cities
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “Kavanagh (Annotated Edition)”, p.16, Jazzybee Verlag

Some must follow and some command, through all are made oclay.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Men, Made, Command

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Believe, Heart, Brain
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1967). “The Letters of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Volume I-II: 1814-1843”, p.470, Harvard University Press

Where should the scholar live? In solitude, or in society? in the green stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart of Nature beat, or in the dark, gray town where he can hear and feel the throbbing heart of man?

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Country, Heart, Dark
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1854). “The Works: Hyperion”, p.46

Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Winter, Long, Cold
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.579, Delphi Classics

Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Stars, Powerful, Passion

O Music! language of the soul, Of love, of God to man; Bright beam from heaven thrilling, That lightens sorrow's weight.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Music, Men, Heaven

It is folly to pretend that one ever wholly recovers from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar. There are faces I can never look upon without emotion, there are names I can never hear spoken without almost starting.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Disappointment, Passion, Names
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.1892, Delphi Classics

Oh, how beautiful is the summer night, which is not night, but a sunless, yet unclouded, day, descending upon earth with dews and shadows and refreshing coolness! How beautiful the long mild twilight, which, like a silver clasp, unites today with yesterday!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beautiful, Summer, Twilight
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1854). “Poems. New edition”, p.410

And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Noble, Wrecks, Immortality
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”, p.188

A life that is worth writing at all is worth writing minutely.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Writing, Biographies
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “Hyperion”, p.57, Jazzybee Verlag

Day of the Lord, as all our days should be!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lord, Should, Sabbath
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “My Complete Poetical Works (Annotated Edition)”, p.1260, Jazzybee Verlag

The pleasant books, that silently among Our household treasures take familiar places, And are to us as if a living tongue Spake from the printed leaves or pictured faces!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Book, Tongue, Faces
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1859). “The Complete Poetical Works”, p.191

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Writing, Past, Milton
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1888). “Longfellow's Days: The Longfellow Prose Birthday Book : Extracts from the Journals and Letters of H. W. Longfellow”

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