Quote

I have seen flowers come in stony places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races, So I trust, too.

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
Done
Gold
Kind
Flower
Stony
Things
Trust
Races
Men
Worst
Cups
Seen
Flowers
Race
Ugly
Faces
Horse
Come
Places

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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.
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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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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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Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
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I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.
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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.
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The days that make us happy make us wise
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God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.
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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 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.
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Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.
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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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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.
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Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die.
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The three foundations of judgement: Bold Design, Constant Practice, and Frequent Mistakes.
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Man's body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable.
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Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.
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Love is a flame to burn out human wills, Love is a flame to set the will on fire, Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.
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And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.
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The Lord who gave us Earth and Heaven Takes that as thanks for all He's given. The book he lent is given back All blotted red and smutted black.
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