Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Sayings and Quotes

Below you will find our collection of inspirational, wise, and humorous old Henry Wadsworth Longfellow quotes, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow sayings, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow proverbs, collected over the years from a variety of sources.

The holiest of holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Mormons make the marriage ring, like the ring of Saturn, fluid, not solid, and keep it in its place by numerous satellites. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined; Often in a wooden house a golden room we find. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater To raise the dead to life than to create Phantoms that seem to live. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The picture that approaches sculpture nearest Is the best picture. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Be noble in every thought and in every deed! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Music is the universal language of mankind. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I heard the bells on Christmas Day. Their old familiar carols play. And wild and sweet the words repeat. Of peace on earth goodwill to men. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For bells are the voice of the church; They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For bells are the voice of the church; They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance. . . . . And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Well I know the secret places, And the nests in hedge and tree; At what doors are friendly faces, In what hearts are thoughts of me. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There are no birds in last year's nest. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A word that has been said may be unsaid; it is but air. But when a deed is done, it cannot be undone, nor can our thoughts reach out to all the mischiefs that may follow. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
As the heart is, so is love to the heart. It partakes of its strength or weakness, its health or disease. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
No endeavour is in vain; Its reward is in the doing. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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
Silently, one by one, / in the infinite windows of heaven, / Blossomed the lovely stars, / the forget-me-nots of the angels. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then, too, the Old Year dieth, / And the forests utter a moan, / Like the voice of one who crieth / In the wilderness alone, / "Vex not his ghost!" Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Their memories overgrown / With other thoughts and troubles of my own, / As graves with grasses are, and at their head / The stone with moss and lichens so o'er spread, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, / Her checks like the dawn of day, / And her bosom white as the hawthorn bud / That ope in the month of May. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A boy's will is the wind's will, and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Softly the evening came with the sunset. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rocky ledge runs far into the sea, / And on its outer point, some miles away, / The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry, / A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Our hearts are lamps forever burning.. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow