Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Compassion Copy Share Image
What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
With useless endeavour Forever, forever, Is Sisyphus rolling His stone up the mountain! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Action Copy Share Image
Dead he is not, but departed, for the artist never dies. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Art Copy Share Image
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Dream Copy Share Image
Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Book Copy Share Image
When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
To say the least, a town life makes one more tolerant and liberal in one's judgment of others. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Cities Copy Share Image
Ah! What would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter Of the Eternal's language; - on earth it is called Forgiveness! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Earth Copy Share Image
We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Nor deem the irrevocable Past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Defeat Copy Share Image
Were a star quenched on high,For ages would its light,Still travelling downward from the sky,Shine on our mortal sight. So when a… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Age Copy Share Image
I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows. Henceforth be mine a life of action and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Action Copy Share Image
Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest art of all the arts. Painting and sculpture are but images, Are merely… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Architect Copy Share Image
Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught In schools, some graduate of the field or street, Who shall become a master of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The Devil hinders me. You know I say Just what I think, and nothing more nor less, And, when I pray, my… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Devil Copy Share Image
There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, And… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Cold Copy Share Image
Many critics are like woodpeckers, who, instead of enjoying the fruit and shadow of a tree, hop incessantly around the trunk, pecking… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“If thou art worn and hard beset, With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget; If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Art Copy Share Image
An angel visited the green earth, and took a flower away. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Angel Copy Share Image
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Angel Copy Share Image
The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Borders Copy Share Image
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Beach Copy Share Image
Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Art Copy Share Image
There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Beautiful Copy Share Image
“Unasked, Unsought, Love gives itself but is not bought” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Classics Copy Share Image
They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Pain Copy Share Image
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives whom we call dead. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Life Copy Share Image
Next to being a great poet, is the power of understanding one — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Great poet Copy Share Image
The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do, well. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Achieving success Copy Share Image
Truly, this world can go on without us, if we would but think so. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice triumphs. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow God Copy Share Image
Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Cold Copy Share Image
The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Deathless Copy Share Image
The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright. The house is full of life and light. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Fire Copy Share Image
