Quote

When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn So many I loved were not yet dead, So many I love were not yet born.

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
Remember
Bygone
Many
Morn
Love
Follows
Think
Evening
Thinking
Dead
Loved
Days
Born

More quotes by Ogden Nash

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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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Some people's money is merited and other people's is inherited.
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So I hope husbands and wives will continue to debate and combat Over everything debatable and combatable Because I believe a little incompatibility is the spice of life Particularly if he has income and she is pattable.
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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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In the world of mules there are no rules.
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And one of his partners asked Has he vertigo? and the other glanced out and down and said Oh no, only about ten feet more.
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I drink because she nags, she said I nag because he drinks. But if the truth be known to you, He's a lush and she's a shrew.
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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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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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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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Some hate broccoli, some hate bacon I hate having my picture taken. How can your family claim to love you And then demand a picture of you?
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Remorse is violent dyspepsia of the mind.
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The oboe's a horn made of wood. I'd play you a tune if I could, But the reeds are a pain, And the fingering's insane. It's the ill wind that no one blows good.
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We love the kindly wind and hail, The jolly thunderbolt, We watch in glee the fairy trail Of ampere, watt, and volt.
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I am a conscientious man, when I throw rocks at seabirds I leave no tern unstoned.
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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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The song of canaries Never varies, And when they're moulting They're pretty revolting.
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Don't over-analyze your marriage it's like yanking up a fragile indoor plant every 20 minutes to see how its roots are growing.
Ogden Nash
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But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them, With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
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Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to lead it.
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