For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOWThe mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.
More Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes
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The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Talk not of wasted affection – affection never was wasted.
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 -
Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Love gives itself; it is not bought.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning – an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we have run, but without any observation of the heavenly bodies.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Youth comes but once in a lifetime.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret,
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW -
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
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 -
All things come round to him who will but wait.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW