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Father calls me William, sister calls me Will, Mother calls me Willie, but the fellows call me Bill!.

Eugene Field

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Eugene Field
Age: 45 †
Born: 1850
Born: September 3
Died: 1895
Died: November 4
Editor
Journalist
Poet
Writer
St. Louis
Missouri
Names
Call
Willie
Father
William
Mother
Calls
Sister
Bill
Fellows
Bills

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All human joys are swift of wing, For heaven doth so allot it That when you get an easy thing, You find you haven't got it
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The best of all physiciansIs apple pie and cheese!
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But I, when I undress me Each night, upon my knees Will ask the Lord to bless me With apple-pie and cheese.
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I'd like a stocking made for a giant, And a meeting house full of toys, Then I'd go out in a happy hunt For the poor little girls and boys Up the street and down the street, And across and over the town, I'd search and find them everyone, Before the sun went down.
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But he who truly loves books loves all books alike, and not only this, but it grieves him that all other men do not share with him this noble passion. Verily, this is the most unselfish of loves!
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Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, - Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew.
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Have you an unexpurgated copy of Hannah More's 'Letters to a Village Maiden'?
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Not so, however, with books, for books cannot change. A thousand years hence they are what you find them to-day, speaking the same words, holding forth the same cheer, the same promise, the same comfort always constant, laughing with those who laugh and weeping with those who weep.
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When I demanded of my friend what viands he preferred, He quoth: A large cold bottle, and a small hot bird!
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What smells so? Has somebody been burning a Rag, or is there a Dead Mule in the Back yard? No, the Man is Smoking a Five-Cent Cigar.
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Let my temptation be a book, which I shall purchase, hold and keep.
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He is so mean, he won't let his little baby have more than one measle at a time.
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Books do actually consume air and exhale perfumes.
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A mighty good sausage stuffer was spoiled when the man became a poet.
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There is a glorious candor in an honest quart of wine, A certain inspitation which I cannot well define.
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Ideas came with explosive immediacy, like an instant birth. Human thought is like a monstrous pendulum it keeps swinging from one extreme to the other.
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Let my temptation be a book.
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Some statesmen go to Congress and some go to jail. It is the same thing, after all.
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