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To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.

Thomas Hood

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Thomas Hood
Age: 45 †
Born: 1799
Born: May 23
Died: 1845
Died: May 3
Humorist
Poet
Writer
London
England
T. H.
Conceited
Conceit
Advise
Attempt
Wind
Like
People
Whistling

More quotes by Thomas Hood

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Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
Thomas Hood
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While the steeples are loud in their joy, To the tune of the bells' ring-a-ding, Let us chime in a peal, one and all, For we all should be able to sing Hullah baloo.
Thomas Hood
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Father of rosy day, No more thy clouds of incense rise But waking flow'rs, At morning hours, Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.
Thomas Hood
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The moon, the moon, so silver and cold, Her fickle temper has oft been told, Now shade--now bright and sunny-- But of all the lunar things that change, The one that shows most fickle and strange, And takes the most eccentric range, Is the moon--so called--of honey!
Thomas Hood
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Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Thomas Hood
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Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
Thomas Hood
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So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
Thomas Hood
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Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
Thomas Hood
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O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
Thomas Hood
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Well, something must be done for May, The time is drawing nigh-- To figure in the Catalogue, And woo the public eye. Something I must invent and paint But oh my wit is not Like one of those kind substantives That answer Who and What?
Thomas Hood
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The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
Thomas Hood
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Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
Thomas Hood
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I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
Thomas Hood
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My brain is dull, my sight is foul, I cannot write a verse, or read-- Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl, And let us have a lark instead.
Thomas Hood
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And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast, And been bow'd to the earth by its fury To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury - Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime, The regrets of remembrance to cozen, And having obtained a New Trial of Time, Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.
Thomas Hood
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No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
Thomas Hood
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No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day, . . . . . . No road, no street, no t' other side the way, . . . . . . No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.
Thomas Hood
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Spontaneously to God should turn the soul, Like the magnetic needle to the pole But what were that intrinsic virtue worth, Suppose some fellow, with more zeal than knowledge, Fresh from St. Andrew's College, Should nail the conscious needle to the north?
Thomas Hood
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She stood breast-high amid the corn Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.
Thomas Hood
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Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.
Thomas Hood