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
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.
Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man; it has become the amusement and delight of the few.
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