Life is a long headache in a noisy street.
John Masefield (1878 - 1967)
Contributed by: Zaady
Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.
Once in a century a man may be ruined or made insufferable by praise. But surely once in a minute something generous dies for want of it.
In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.
Source: Sea Fever, 1902, st. 3
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.
Source: The West Wind, 1902
The days that make us happy make us wise.
What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt Held in cohesion by unresting cells, Which work they know not why, which never halt, Myself unwitting where their Master dwells?
Source: Sonnets, 14
And he who gives a child a treat Makes joy-bells ring in Heaven's street, And he who gives a child a home Builds palaces in Kingdom come, And she who gives a baby birth Brings Saviour Christ again to Earth.
Source: The Everlasting Mercy
Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die.
Source: Pompey the Great
The hours that make us happy make us wise.
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