American poet (1807-1882)
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.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Driftwood
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"The Theologian's Tale", Tales of a Wayside Inn
Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Hyperion
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, and with a manly heart.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Hyperion
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Driftwood
Into each life some rain must fall.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"The Rainy Day"
All nature ... is a respiration
Of the Spirit of God, who, in breathing hereafter
Will inhale it into his bosom again,
So that nothing but God alone will remain.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The Golden Legend
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
"Hymn to the Night"
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Kavanagh: A Tale
Ah, how wonderful is the advent of spring! -- the great annual miracle of the blossoming of Aaron's rod, repeated on myriads and myriads of branches! -- the gentle progression and growth of herbs, flowers, trees, -- gentle and yet irrepressible, -- which no force can stay, no violence restrain, like love, that wins its way and cannot be withstood by any human power, because itself is divine power. If spring came but once in a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence, what wonder and expectation there would be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change! But now the silent succession suggests nothing but necessity. To most men only the cessation of the miracle would be miraculous and the perpetual exercise of God's power seems less wonderful than its withdrawal would be.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Kavanagh: A Tale
The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well; and doing well whatever you do, without a thought of fame.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Hyperion
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
"The Reaper and the Flowers"
Noble by birth, yet nobler by great deeds.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Tales of a Wayside Inn
Music is the universal language of mankind -- poetry their universal pastime and delight.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Outre-Mer
The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer,
Kisses the blushing leaf.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Woods in Winter"
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
Table-Talk
For after all, the best thing one can do when it is raining, is to let it rain.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"The Poet's Tale", Tales of a Wayside Inn
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"The Rainy Day"
The grave itself is but a covered bridge,
Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The Golden Legend
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"There Was a Little Girl"