Quote

Bells are musics laughter.

Thomas Hood

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Thomas Hood
Age: 45 †
Born: 1799
Born: May 23
Died: 1845
Died: May 3
Humorist
Poet
Writer
London
England
T. H.
Laughter
Musics
Bells
Christmas

More quotes by Thomas Hood

Image
Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.
Thomas Hood
Image
There's a double beauty whenever a swan Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
Thomas Hood
Image
Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
Thomas Hood
Image
Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
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
Image
To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.
Thomas Hood
Image
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
Fuss is the froth of business.
Thomas Hood
Image
Well for the drones of the social hive that there are bees of an industrious turn, willing, for an infinitesimal share of the honey, to undertake the labor of its fabrication.
Thomas Hood
Image
I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs, where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburmum on his birthday,- The tree is living yet.
Thomas Hood
Image
The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
Thomas Hood
Image
We watch'd her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro.
Thomas Hood
Image
Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray.
Thomas Hood
Image
Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
Thomas Hood
Image
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
Thomas Hood
Image
The year's in wane There is nothing adorning The night has no eve, And the day has no morning Cold winter gives warning!
Thomas Hood