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Without imagination of the one kind or of the other, mortal existence is indeed a dreary and prosaic business... Illumined by the imagination, our life, whatever its defeats - is a never-ending unforeseen strangeness and adventure and mystery.

Walter de La Mare

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Walter de La Mare
Age: 83 †
Born: 1873
Born: April 25
Died: 1956
Died: June 22
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Writer
Charlton
London
Walter Ramal
Walter John de la Mare
Kind
Indeed
Unforeseen
Never
Adventure
Defeats
Life
Mystery
Strangeness
Imagination
Dreary
Existence
Mortal
Whatever
Ending
Business
Mortals
Illumined
Without
Defeat
Prosaic

More quotes by Walter de La Mare

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As long as I live I shall always be My Self - and no other, Just me.
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And some win peace who spend The skill of words to sweeten despair Of finding consolation where Life has but one dark end.
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Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.
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When I lie where shades of darkness Shall no more assail mine eyes.
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Very old are the woods And the buds that break Out of the brier's boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are-- Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.
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So, blind to Someone I must be.
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All but blind In his chambered hole Gropes for worms The four-clawed Mole.
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Too late for fruit, too soon for flowers.
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Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon.
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The sandy cat by the Farmer's chair Mews at his knee for dainty fare Old Rover in his moss-greened house Mumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse. In the dewy fields the cattle lie Chewing the cud 'neath a fading sky Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.
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What lovely things Thy hand hath made.
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Hi! handsome hunting man Fire your little gun. Bang! Now the animal is dead and dumb and done. Nevermore to peep again, creep again, leap again, Eat or sleep or drink again. Oh, what fun!
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What is the world, O soldiers? It is I, I, this incessant snow, This northern sky.
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God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.
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An hour's terror is better than a lifetime of timidity.
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What a haunting, inescapable riddle life was.
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Do diddle di do, Poor Jim Jay Got stuck fast In Yesterday.
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Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.
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As soon as they're out of your sight, you are out of their mind.
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The only catalogue of this world's goods that really counts is that which we keep in the silence of the mind.
Walter de La Mare