WIST

If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
“Elegiac Verse,” In the Harbor (1882)

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
“Holidays” (1876)
Full poem

Toiling, — rejoicing — sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
“The Village Blacksmith”

Trust no future, however pleasant!
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Act, — act in the living Present!
Heart within and God overhead.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
(Attributed)

Nature is a revelation of God; Art a revelation of man.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
(Attributed)

If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
(Attributed)

The Laws of Nature are just, but terrible. There is no weak mercy in them. Cause and consequence are inseparable and inevitable. The elements have no forbearance. The fire burns, the water drowns, the air consumes, the earth buries. And perhaps it would be well for our race if the punishment of crimes against the Laws of Man were as inevitable as the punishment of crimes against the Laws of Nature

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
(Attributed)

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;
Amid these earthly damps
What seem to us but sad, funeral tapers
May be heaven’s distant lamps.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
(Attributed)

We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
(Attributed)

Men of genius are often dull and inert in society, as a blazing meteor, when it descends to earth, is only a stone.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
(Attributed)

The grave is but a covered bridge leading from light to light, through a brief darkness.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
A Covered Bridge at Lucerne

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.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
A Psalm of Life

Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrow which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
Hyperion: A Romance (1839)

The little I have seen of the world … teaches me to look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in anger.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
Hyperion, 4.3 (1839)