Ki Longfellow Quotes

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.

There is no death! What seems so is transition; this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian, whose portal we call Death.

The happy should not insist too much upon their happiness in the presence of the unhappy.

Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again.

The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.

Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.

It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.

Kind messages, that pass from land to land; Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history, In which we feel the pressure of a hand,-- One touch of fire,--and all the rest is mystery!

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.

I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart

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

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

When Christ ascended Triumphantly from star to star He left the gates of Heaven ajar.

See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!

Thou shalt learn The wisdom early to discern True beauty in utility.

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

In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face the face of one long dead Looks at me from the wall, where round its head The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.

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

In December ring Every day the chimes; Loud the gleemen sing In the streets their merry rhymes. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire!

Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and silence.

Ne speaketh not; and yet there lies a conversation in his eyes.

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.

Some must follow and some command, through all are made oclay.

As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me.

The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do, well.

Music is the language spoken by angels.

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.

Difficulty on the way to victory is opportunity for God to work

Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater To raise the dead to life than to create Phantoms that seem to live.

Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age, in purple.

In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.

As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so change of studies a dull brain.

With many readers, brilliancy of style passes for affluence of thought; they mistake buttercups in the grass for immeasurable gold mines under ground.

Your education begins where what is called your education is over. Your fate is but the common lot of all.

Whatever poet, orator, or sage may say of it, old age is still old age.

When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it.

Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man's enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.

The things that have been and shall be no more, The things that are, and that hereafter shall be, The things that might have been, and yet were not, The fading twilight of joys departed.

A Lady with a Lamp shall stand In the great history of the land, A noble type of good, Heroic womanhood.

From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.

When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.

A boy's will is the wind's will.

It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, - always do what you are afraid to do.

Build me straight. O worthy Master! Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!

This is the place. Stand still, my steed,- Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy past The forms that once have been.

God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again.

In what a forge and what a heat were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock; 'Tis of the wave and not the rock.

Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.

Then read from the treasured volume the poem of thy choice, and lend to the rhyme of the poet the beauty of thy voice.