Quote

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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Thomas Hood
Age: 45 †
Born: 1799
Born: May 23
Died: 1845
Died: May 3
Humorist
Poet
Writer
London
England
T. H.
Well
Figures
Catalogue
Done
Answer
Nigh
Must
Painting
Catalogues
Kind
Answers
Invent
Something
Public
Wit
Time
Eye
Drawing
Like
May
Figure
Wells
Paint

More quotes by 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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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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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
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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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Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.
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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The Autumn is old The sere leaves are flying He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying- Old age, begin sighing!
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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Bells are musics laughter.
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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O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
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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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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When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
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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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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To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.
Thomas Hood
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Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
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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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