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Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.
John Masefield
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John Masefield
Age: 88 †
Born: 1878
Born: June 1
Died: 1967
Died: May 12
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
County of Herefordshire
John Edward Masefield
Weather
Nautical
Kinds
Cape
Neither
Capes
Two
Horn
Kind
Horns
Sailing
Boat
Pleasant
Mariners
More quotes by John Masefield
When Life knocks at the door no one can wait, When Death makes his arrest we have to go.
John Masefield
Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French.
John Masefield
His face was filled with broken commandments.
John Masefield
In the dark room where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her.
John Masefield
The days that make us happy make us wise
John Masefield
When the last sea is sailed and last shallow charted, When the last field is reaped and the last harvest stored, When the last fire is out and the last guest departed Grant the last prayer that I pray, Be good to me, O Lord.
John Masefield
And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.
John Masefield
Man with his burning soul Has but an hour of breath To build a ship of Truth In which his soul may sail- Sail on the sea of death. For death takes toll Of beauty, courage, youth, Of all but Truth.
John Masefield
All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.
John Masefield
Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.
John Masefield
So death obscures your gentle form, So memory strives to make the darkness bright And, in that heap of rocks, your body lies, Part of the island till the planet ends, My gentle comrade, beautiful and wise, Part of this crag this bitter surge offends, While I, who pass, a little obscure thing, War with this force, and breathe, and am its king.
John Masefield
State are not made, nor patched they grow Grow slow through centuries of pain, And grow correctly in the main But only grow by certain laws, Of certain bits in certain jaws.
John Masefield
God dropped a spark down into everyone, And if we find and fan it to a blaze, It'll spring up and glow, like--like the sun, And light the wandering out of stony ways.
John Masefield
The corn that makes the holy bread By which the soul of man is fed, The holy bread, the food unpriced, Thy everlasting mercy, Christ.
John Masefield
God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.
John Masefield
In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.
John Masefield
I hold that when a person dies / His soul returns again to earth / Arrayed in some new flesh disguise / Another mother gives him birth / With sturdier limbs and brighter brain.
John Masefield
Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die.
John Masefield
The social states of human kinds Are made by multitudes of minds, And after multitudes of years A little human growth appears Worth having, even to the soul Who sees most plain it's not the whole.
John Masefield
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the West wind, and daffodils.
John Masefield
