Look, then, into thine heart, and write! Yes, into Life's deep stream! All forms of sorrow and delight, All solemn Voices of the Night, That can soothe thee, or affright, - Be these henceforth thy theme. (excerpt from "Voices of the Night")
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowWe waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowThat tree is very old, but I never saw prettier blossoms on it than it now bears. That tree grows new wood each year. Like that apple tree, I try to grow a new little wood each year.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowIt is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow