Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

The Bourne Underneath the growing grass, Underneath the living flowers, Deeper than the sound of showers: There we shall not count the hours By the shadows as they pass. Youth and health will be but vain, Beauty reckoned of no worth: There a very little girth Can hold round what once the earth Seemed too narrow to contain.

Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.

The brief span of our poor unhappy life to its final hour Is hastening on; and while we drink and call for gay wreaths, Perfumes, and young girls, old age creeps upon us, unperceived.

My life is light, waiting for the death wind, Like a feather on the back of my hand.

He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience.

I often feel that life is about to begin, only to realize it is almost over.

Everything that rises sets, and everything that grows, grows old.

My birthday is Feb. 11, and I'm both excited and not excited by it. You'll never be 15 again, and you really, really need to savor every day like it's your last.

Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.

We are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine.

The human life is all one thing, like a blade tracing loops on the ice: a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow.

Mortality defines the human condition.

Life is wasted on the living.

When you really deep down look at it, we go to bed every night, get up every morning, stay here for 70 or 80 years, and then we die.

Death, like birth, is a secret of Nature.

Birth and death; we all move between these two unknowns.

Nothing is a matter of life and death except life and death.

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.

In history as in human life, regret does not bring back a lost moment and a thousand years will not recover something lost in a single hour.

Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.

Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.

No one is so old that he cannot live yet another year, nor so young that he cannot die today.

Even when you're 22 and you feel immortal, you know in your heart you're not.

I think it's a great tragedy of childhood that you only really appreciate it once it's done: it's very hard to feel appreciative of the gifts you have until you're gone.