The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOWThe nearer the dawn the darker the night.
More Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes
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The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed To have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Thought takes man out of servitude, into freedom.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man’s enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us, footprints on the sands of time.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well, and doing well whatever you do without thought of fame. If it comes at all it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW