Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ( 10 of 238 )
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
Since yesterday I have been in Alcala.
Erelong the time will come, sweet Preciosa,
When that dull read more
Since yesterday I have been in Alcala.
Erelong the time will come, sweet Preciosa,
When that dull distance shall no more divide us;
And I no more shall scale thy wall by night
To steal a kiss from thee, as I do now.
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
- quoted by Thomas Babington Macaulay, The Rovers read more
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
- quoted by Thomas Babington Macaulay, The Rovers (act IV),
A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles read more
A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain.
It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
read more
It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
He, too, is God's minister,
And labors for some good
By us not understood.
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more
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.
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
read more
Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
The dialect they speak, where melodies
Alone are the interpreters of thought?
Whose household words are songs in many keys,
Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught!
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel read more
By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad,
And wafted up to heaven.
