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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.

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
Back
Count
Human
French
Humans
Arise
Must
Bed
People
Instead
Yawn
Ought
Perverse
Sleep
Legislature
Nature
Sheep

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Some primal termite knocked on wood. And tasted it, and found it good. And that is why your Cousin May Fell through the parlor floor today.
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It is my duty, gentlemen, to inform you that women are dictators all, and I recommend to you this moral: In real life it takes only one to make a quarrel.
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Indeed, everybody wants to be a wow, But not everybody knows exactly how.
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When grandparents enter the door, discipline flies out the window.
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The Pig, if I am not mistaken, Supplies us sausage, ham, and Bacon. Let others say his heart is big, I think it stupid of the Pig.
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When there are monsters there are miracles.
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Here's a toast to the roast that good fellowship lends, with the sparkle of beer and wine May its sentiment always be deeper, my friends, than the foam at the top of the stein. Then here's to the heartening wassail, wherever good fellows are found Be its master instead of its vassal, and order the glasses around.
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Any kiddie in school can love like a fool, But Hating, my boy, is an Art.
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Stuyvesant chats with Kelly and Katz, The professor warms to the broker, And life is good in the brotherhood Of an air-conditioned smoker.
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I'd rather be a great bad poet than a good bad poet.
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Professional men, they have no cares whatever happens, they get theirs.
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It is common knowledge to every schoolboy and even every Bachelor of Arts, That all sin is divided into two parts. One kind of sin is called a sin of commission, and that is very important
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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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Beneath this slab John Brown is stowed. He watched the ads, And not the road.
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The codfish is a staple food For which I'm seldom in the mood. This fish is such an utter loss That people eat it with egg sauce.
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Ten years ago she split the air To seize what she could spy Tonight she bumps against a chair, Betrayed by milky eye. She seems to pant, Time up, time up! My little dog must die, And lie in dust with Hector's pup I So, presently, must I.
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Here lies my past, Goodbye I have kissed it Thank you kids, I wouldn't have missed it.
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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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Women would rather be right than reasonable.
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Whether elected or appointed he considers himself the Lord's anointed, and indeed the ointment lingers on him so thick you can't get your fingers on him.
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