Quote

Lives of great men oft remind us as we o'er their pages turn, That we too may leave behind us - Letters that we ought to burn.

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.
May
Pages
Great
Behinds
Men
Behind
Ought
Leave
Turn
Remind
Turns
Burn
Lives
Letters

More quotes by Thomas Hood

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With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread.
Thomas Hood
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Fuss is the froth of business.
Thomas Hood
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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
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Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
Thomas Hood
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There's a double beauty whenever a swan Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
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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Ben Battle was a soldier bold, and used to war's alarms, But a cannon-ball took off his legs, so he laid down his arms.
Thomas Hood
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Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions Yet others of our most romantic schemes, Are something more than fictions.
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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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
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Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.
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
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What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn, I scent no flowery gust But faint the flagging zephyr springs, With dry Macadam on its wings, And turns me 'dust to dust.'
Thomas Hood
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Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
Thomas Hood
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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
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O men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!
Thomas Hood
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How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
Thomas Hood
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The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no salaam And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam.
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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A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth
Thomas Hood