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.
Done
Answer
Nigh
Must
Painting
Catalogues
Kind
Answers
Invent
Something
Public
Wit
Eye
Drawing
Time
May
Figure
Like
Wells
Paint
Well
Figures
Catalogue

More quotes by 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.
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Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
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No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
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Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.
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Fuss is the froth of business.
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Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
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Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
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The year's in wane There is nothing adorning The night has no eve, And the day has no morning Cold winter gives warning!
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Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
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O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
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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.
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How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.
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My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloon.
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!
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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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The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
Thomas Hood
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Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.
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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Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
Thomas Hood
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Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Thomas Hood