Quote

Your hair may be brushed, but your mind's untidy. You've had about seven hours of sleep since Friday. No wonder you feel that lost sensation. You're sunk from a riot of relaxation.

Ogden Nash

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Ogden Nash
Age: 68 †
Born: 1902
Born: August 19
Died: 1971
Died: May 19
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
New York
United States
Frederic Ogden Nash
Feels
Hair
Sunk
Mind
Wonder
Riot
Sleep
Relaxation
Since
Sensation
Hours
Friday
Lost
Sensations
May
Weekend
Untidy
Feel
Seven
Brushed

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Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to lead it.
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Humor is hope's companion in arms. It is not brash, it is not cheap, it is not heartless. Among other things I think humor is a shield, a weapon, a survival kit.
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One would be in less danger From the wiles of the stranger If one's own kin and kith Were more fun to be with.
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I don't mind their having a lot of money, and I don't care how they employ it, but I do think that they damn well ought to admit they enjoy it.
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Don't Cry Darling, It's Blood All Right
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O money, money, money. I'm not necessarily one of those who think thee holy, but I often stop to wonder how thou canst go out so fast when thou comest in so slowly.
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Smallpox is natural vaccine ain't.
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Happiness is having a scratch for every itch.
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The more you earn, the less you keep, And now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to take, If the tax-collector hasn't got it before I wake.
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I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance, were it not for making living, which is rather a nouciance.
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Some one invented the telephone, And interrupted a nation's slumbers, Ringing wrong but similar numbers.
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There was a young man of Herne Bay who was making some fireworks one day: but he dropped his cigar in the gunpowder jar. There was a young man of Herne Bay.
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There are two kinds of people who blow through life like a breeze, And one kind is gossipers, and the other kind is gossipees.
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A bird in the open never looks Like its picture in the birdie books - Or if it once did, it has changed its plumage, And plunges you back into ignorant gloomage.
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The doctor gets you when you're born, The preacher, when you marry, And the lawyer lurks with costly clerks If too much on you carry. Professional men, they have no cares Whatever happens, they get theirs.
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Winter is the king of showmen, Turning tree stumps into snowmen And houses into birthday cakes And spreading sugar over lakes. Smooth and clean and frosty white, The world looks good enough to bite. That’s the season to be young, Catching snowflakes on your tongue. Snow is snowy when it’s snowing, I’m sorry it’s slushy when it’s going.
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Sleep is perverse as human nature, Sleep is perverse as legislature.... So people who go to bed to sleep Must count French premiers or sheep, And people who ought to arise from bed Yawn and go back to sleep instead.
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Any kiddie in school can love like a fool, But Hating, my boy, is an Art.
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Some people's money is merited and other people's is inherited.
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I'd rather be a great bad poet than a good bad poet.
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