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And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.

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
May
Find
Tavern
Taverns
Pilgrimage
Ended
Page
Pages
Death

More quotes by John Masefield

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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.
John Masefield
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Most roads lead men homewards, My road leads me forth
John Masefield
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Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield
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In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.
John Masefield
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Life's battle is a conquest for the strong The meaning shows in the defeated thing.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield
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It ought to have gangsters, and aeroplanes and a lot of automatic pistols.
John Masefield
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Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield
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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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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
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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.
John Masefield
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Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.
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.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield