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

More quotes by Thomas Hood

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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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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.'
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No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
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Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.
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When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
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Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.
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No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!
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Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
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I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
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The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.
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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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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.
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How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.
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So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears
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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.
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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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I love thee - I love thee, 'Tis all that I can say, It is my vision in the night, My dreaming in the day.
Thomas Hood
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Fuss is the froth of business.
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Bells are musics laughter.
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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