Quote

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

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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
Made
Bits
Jaws
Grows
Correctly
Law
Centuries
State
Slow
Pain
Main
Certain
Laws
States
Grow
Government
Century
Patched

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The luck will alter and the star will rise.
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The three foundations of judgement: Bold Design, Constant Practice, and Frequent Mistakes.
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All the great things of life are swiftly done, Creation, death, and love the double gate. However much we dawdle in the sun We have to hurry at the touch of Fate.
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Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain, And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.
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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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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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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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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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From '41 to '51I was my folk's contrary sonI bit my father's hand right throughAnd broke my mother's heart in two.
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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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Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.
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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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Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.
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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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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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The distant soul can shake the distant friend's soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles.
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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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In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.
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Each one could be a Jesus mild, Each one has been a little child, A little child with laughing look, A lovely white unwritten book A book that God will take, my friend, As each goes out at journey's end.
John Masefield
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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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