Quote

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

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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
Person
Hold
Returns
Giving
Brain
Brighter
Dies
Limbs
Mother
Disguise
Another
Flesh
Earth
Birth
Persons
Return
Arrayed
Soul
Gives
Reincarnation

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O lovely lily clean, O lily springing green, O lily bursting white, Dear lily of delight, Spring in my heart agen That I may flower to men.
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Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French.
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The distant soul can shake the distant friend's soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles.
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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.
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In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.
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Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die.
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Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.
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On the long dusty ribbon of the long city street, The pageant of life is passing me on multitudinous feet, With a word here of the hills, and a song there of the sea And-the great movement changes-the pageant passes me.
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And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.
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I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.
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There are few earthly things more beautiful than a university a place where those who hate ignorance may strive to know, where those who perceive truth may strive to make others see.
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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.
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But he has gone, A nation's memory and veneration, Among the radiant, ever venturing on, Somewhere, with morning, as such spirits will.
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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.
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God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.
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To most of us the future seems unsure. But then it always has been and we who have seen great changes must have great hopes.
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Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.
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When Life knocks at the door no one can wait, When Death makes his arrest we have to go.
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Man's body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable.
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I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.
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