Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Born in February 27, 1807 / Died in March 24, 1882 / United States / English
Quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man's enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.
In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer.
The grave is but a covered bridge Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
The heights by great men reached and keptWere not obtained by sudden flight,But they, while their companions sleptWere toiling upward in the night.
He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
A thought often makes us hotter than a fire.
It is foolish to pretend that one is fully recovered from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar.
Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place.
I stay a little longer, as one stays, to cover up the embers that still burn.
I have an affection for a great city. I feel safe in the neighborhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of the streets.
The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.
A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better than ten years mere study of books.
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.
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Give what you have to somebody, it may be better than you think.
If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it.
All things come round to him who will but wait.
If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books.
Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.
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.
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.
Something attempted, something done, Has earned a nights repose.
Ah, how skillful grows the hand that obeyeth love's command! It is the heart and not the brain that to the highest doth attain, and he who followeth love's behest far excelleth all the rest.
