How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow More Quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow More Quotes From Henry Wadsworth Longfellow In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow leadership work character People of a lively imagination are generally curious, and always so when a little in love. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow curiosity imagination people Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow summer heart song They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow memorial-day uplifting names From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow dust death art The highest exercise of imagination is not to devise what has no existence, but rather to perceive what really exists, though unseen by the outward eye-not creation, but insight. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow eye exercise art Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow mom mother art How can I teach your children gentleness and mercy to the weak, and reverence for life, which in its nakedness and excess, is still a gleam of God's omnipotence, when by your laws, your actions and your speech, you contradict the very things I teach? Henry Wadsworth Longfellow omnipotence law children Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow god-within-us glorious world The things that have been and shall be no more, The things that are, and that hereafter shall be, The things that might have been, and yet were not, The fading twilight of joys departed. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow departed twilight joy There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow summer beautiful sweet The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow eagles night fall Men should soon make up their minds to be forgotten, and look about them, or within them, for some higher motive in what they do than the approbation of men, which is fame, namely, their duty; that they should be constantly and quietly at work, each in his sphere, regardless of effects, and leaving their fame to take care of itself. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow leaving mind men Quotes about Life Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. 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. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow dream life death The holiest of all holidays are those Henry Wadsworth Longfellow holiday blow heart The happy should not insist too much upon their happiness in the presence of the unhappy. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow too-much unhappy happiness A life that is worth writing at all is worth writing minutely. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow biographies writing In December ring Every day the chimes; Loud the gleemen sing In the streets their merry rhymes. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow december fire night How wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul. The intellect of man is enthroned visibly on his forehead and in his eye, and the heart of man is written on his countenance, but the soul, the soul reveals itself in the voice only. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow eye heart men A stiff letter galls one like a stiff shirt collar -- whilst a sheet garnished here and there with a careless blot -- and here and there a dash -- but in the main full of excellent matter, is like a clever fellow in a dirty shirt whom we value for the good humour he brings with him and not for the garb he wears. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow clever letters dirty
