Quotes from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Joy and Temperance and Repose Slam the door on the doctor's nose.

As unto the bow the cord is,So unto the man is woman,Though she bends him, she obeys him,Though she draws him, yet she follows,Useless each without the other!

If the mind, that rules the body, ever so far forgets itself as to trample on its slave, the slave is never generous enough to forgive the injury, but will rise and smite the oppressor.

Nothing that is can pause or stay; The moon will wax, the moon will wane, The mist and cloud will turn to rain, The rain to mist and cloud again, Tomorrow be today.

The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.

A boy's will is the wind's will,And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose.

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night!

Heights by great men reached and kept were not obtained by sudden flight but, while their companions slept, they were toiling upward in the night.

Build me straight, O worthy Master!Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel.

Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.

And the night shall be filled with music,And the cares, that infest the day,Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,And as silently steal away.

I heard the trailing garments of the NightSweep through her marble halls.

A Lady with a Lamp [Florence Nightingale] shall standIn the great history of the land,A noble type of good,Heroic womanhood.

The bards sublime,Whose distant footsteps echoThrough the corridors of Time.

Between the dark and the daylight,When the night is beginning to lower,Comes a pause in the day's occupations,That is known as the Children's Hour.

All was silent as before — All silent save the dripping rain.

Three silences there are: the first of speech,The second of desire, the third of thought.

If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning.

Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks…Stand like Druids of old.

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.

The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.