Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. Life is real Life is earnest And the grave is not its goal Dust thou art to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

You know I say just what I think, and nothing more and less. I cannot say one thing and mean another.
Well has it been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
We judge ourselves by what we are capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
To which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.
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.
The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air.
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books.
The holiest of holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart The secret anniversaries of the heart.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. Life is real Life is earnest And the grave is not its goal Dust thou art to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

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