Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Dreams or illusions, call them what you will, they lift us from the commonplace of life to better things. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The Nile, forever new and old, Among the living and the dead, Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
What else remains for me? Youth, hope and love; To build a new life on a ruined life. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
We waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Each day is a branch of the Tree of Life laden heavily with fruit. If we lie down lazily beneath it, we… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Youth, hope, and love: To build a new life on a ruined life, To make the future fairer than the past, And… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Live up to the best that is in you: Live noble lives, as you all may, in whatever condition you may find… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“Tell me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 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 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
Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife, And safe from all adversity Upon the bosom of that… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How can I teach your children gentleness and mercy to the weak, and reverence for life, which in its nakedness and excess,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
O ye dead Poets, who are living still Immortal in your verse, though life be fled, And ye, O living Poets, who… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The foods that prolong life and increase purity, vigour, health, cheerfulness, and happiness are those that are delicious, soothing, substantial and agreeable...… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The tragic element in poetry is like Saturn in alchemy, the Malevolent, the Destroyer of Nature ; but without it no… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 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 Copy Share Image
How far the gulf-stream of our youth may flow Into the arctic regions of our lives, Where little else than life itself… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I do not love thee less for what is done, And cannot be undone. Thy very weakness Hath brought thee nearer to… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Each new epoch in life seems an encounter. There is a tussle and a cloud of dust, and we come out of… — 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
Love contending with friendship, and self with each generous impulse. To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and dashing,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in willing service. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A great sorrow, like a mariner's quadrant, brings the sun at noon down to the horizon, and we learn where we are… — 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… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The highest exercise of imagination is not to devise what has no existence, but rather to perceive what really exists, though unseen… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected; for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
There is no death! What seems so is transition; this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“ Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them, Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
That was the first sound in the song of love! Scarce more than silence is, and yet a sound. Hands of invisible… — 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
