Quote

My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloon.

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.
Kept
Dog
Saloon
Books
Tavern
Reading
Saloons
Book
Taverns
Pits
Ring
Rings

More quotes by 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
When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
Thomas Hood
Image
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
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
Fuss is the froth of business.
Thomas Hood
Image
Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
Thomas Hood
Image
A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth
Thomas Hood
Image
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Thomas Hood
Image
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
Thomas Hood
Image
Bells are musics laughter.
Thomas Hood
Image
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
Image
For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
Thomas Hood
Image
So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
Thomas Hood
Image
There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
Thomas Hood
Image
Whoe'er has gone thro' London street, Has seen a butcher gazing at his meat, And how he keeps Gloating upon a sheep's Or bullock's personals, as if his own How he admires his halves And quarters--and his calves, As if in truth upon his own legs grown.
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
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
Image
Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.
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
How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.
Thomas Hood