Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings. — 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
Some feelings are quite untranslatable; no language has yet been found for them. They gleam upon us beautifully through the dim twilight… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
In the life of every man there are sudden transitions of feeling, which seem almost miraculous. At once, as if some magician… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A spirit of criticism, if indulged in, leads to a censoriousness of disposition that is destructive of all nobler feeling. The man… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings - as some savage tribes determine… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
In old age our bodies are worn-out instruments, on which the soul tries in vain to play the melodies of youth. But because the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“ Endymion The rising moon has hid the stars; Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows brown between.… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Nature paints not; In oils, but frescoes the great dome of heaven; With sunsets, and the lovely forms of clouds; And flying vapors. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“ Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers,— Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from Fear,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The trees are white with dust, that o'er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, While underneath such leafy tents they… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Heights by great men reached and kept were not obtained by sudden flight but, while their companions slept, they were toiling upward in the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
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,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
