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A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery On the hill's shoulder.
Dylan Thomas
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Dylan Thomas
Age: 39 †
Born: 1914
Born: October 27
Died: 1953
Died: November 9
Author
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Abertawe
Dylan Marlais Thomas
Clouds
Whistling
Sun
October
Nature
Hill
Cloud
Brimming
Shoulder
Blackbirds
Rolling
Roadside
Hills
Bushes
Shoulders
Larks
More quotes by Dylan Thomas
The moment of a miracle is unending lightning.
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Somebody's boring me. I think it's me.
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Oh, isn't life a terrible thing, thank God?
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Rage, rage against the dying light
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He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.
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And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
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And time cast forth my mortal creature To drift or drown upon the seas Acquainted with the salt adventure Of tides that never touch the shores. - I who was rich was made the richer By sipping at the the vine of days.
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To begin at the beginning: It is a spring moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black.
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I have just had eighteen whiskeys in a row. I do believe that is a record.
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Whatever talents I possess may suddenly diminish or suddenly increase. I can with ease become an ordinary fool. I may be one now. But it doesn't do to upset one's own vanity.
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Life always offers you a second chance. is called tomorrow.
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The only sea I saw Was the seesaw sea With you riding on it. Lie down, lie easy. Let me shipwreck in your thighs.
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A good poem is a contribution to reality.
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I used to think that once a writer became a man of letters, if only for a half hour, he was done for. And here I am now, at the very moment of such an odious, though respectable, danger.
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And from the first declension of the flesh I learnt man's tongue, to twist the shapes of thoughts Into the stony idiom of the brain.
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... an ugly, lovely town ... crawling, sprawling ... by the side of a long and splendid curving shore. This sea-town was my world.
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I went on all over the States, ranting poems to enthusiastic audiences that, the week before, had been equally enthusiastic about lectures on Railway Development or the Modern Turkish Essay.
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[I'm]a freak user of words, not a poet.
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If you want a definition of poetry, say: Poetry is what makes me laugh or cry or yawn, what makes my toenails twinkle, what makes me want to do this or that or nothing and let it go at that.
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Though they go mad they shall be sane, though they sink through the sea they shall rise again though lovers be lost love shall not and death shall have no dominion.
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