A Quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea — © Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.
Whatever his secret was, I have learnt one secret too, and namely: that the soul is but a manner of being - not a constant state - that any soul may be yours, if you find and follow its undulations. The hereafter may be the full ability of consciously living in any chosen soul, in any number of souls, all of them unconscious of their interchangeable burden.
My real log is written in the sea and sky; the sails talking with the rain and the stars amid the sounds of the sea, the silences full of secret things between my boat and me, like the times I spent as a child listening to the forest talk.
The soul must long for God in order to be set aflame by God's love; but if the soul cannot yet feel the longing, then it must long for the longing. To long for the longing is also from God.
The human animal began as a mere wriggling thing in the ancient seas, struggling out onto land with many regrets. That is what brings us so full of longing to the sea.
There in the windy flood of morning Longing lifted its weight from me, Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering, Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.
There's a sea secret in me / it's plain to see it is rising / but I must be flowing liquid diamonds / calling for my soul / at the corners of the world
Out of the rhythm and sound of the sea that beat through the orchestra, something moved--pressing toward death with quiet insistent joy--the thread through the maze--the soul behind the toil and the crime and longing.
My mind is full of secrets I'm too afraid to tell. My body's full of longing for you to know me well.
It is not possible to achieve by vigilance in anger and revenge what the soul is longing for. The soul longs for peace.
A book is good company. It is full of conversation without loquacity. It comes to your longing with full instruction, but pursues you never.
A human soul devoid of longing was a soul deformed, deprived of its highest good, sick unto death.
The soul, in its longing to grow, will push us toward crisis points, bringing about a situation that will force us to leave behind the old toys and the worn-out ways of operating. Our soul brings us these crises to remind us that we don’t have to remain stuck in the land of the hunters and the hunted. We are called to draw ourselves up to our full height and confidence, even when terrified at the prospect of the unknown.
The woods are never solitary — they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity. We can never pierce its infinite mystery — we may only wander, awed and spellbound, on the outer fringe of it. The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only — a mighty voice.
But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing. How few of us ever emerge from such beginning! How many souls perish in its tumult! The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.
The woods are never solitary--they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity.
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