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But men at whiles are sober And think by fits and starts. And if they think, they fasten Their hands upon their hearts
A. E. Housman
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A. E. Housman
Age: 77 †
Born: 1859
Born: January 1
Died: 1936
Died: January 1
Classical Philologist
Classical Scholar
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Worcs
A. E. Housman
Think
Sober
Thinking
Starts
Fit
Hearts
Upon
Hands
Whiles
Heart
Fasten
Men
Fits
More quotes by A. E. Housman
Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.
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The house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.
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In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.
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There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
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Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.
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Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.
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Do not ever read books about versification: no poet ever learnt it that way. If you are going to be a poet, it will come to you naturally and you will pick up all you need from reading poetry.
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You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever.
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His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away.
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The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.
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All knots that lovers tie Are tied to sever. Here shall your sweetheart lie, Untrue for ever.
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Stars, I have seen them fall, But when they drop and die No star is lost at all From all the star-sown sky. The toil of all that be Helps not the primal fault It rains into the sea And still the sea is salt.
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Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see, And there you find your face too clear And love it and be lost like me.
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I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
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Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go.
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Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man's deceiver Was never mine.
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All knowledge is precious whether or not it serves the slightest human use.
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Good night ensured release, Imperishable peace, Have these for yours. * While sky and sea and land And earth's foundations stand And heaven endures. *These three lines are on the tablet over Housman's grave in the parish church at Ludlow, Shropshire, England
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Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out. Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.
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Ten thousand times I've done my best and all's to do again.
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