Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, He stood and counted them and cursed his luck; And then the clock collected in the tower Its strength, and struck.
A. E. HOUSMANGreat literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man’s.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
The mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
All knots that lovers tie Are tied to sever. Here shall your sweetheart lie, Untrue for ever.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
He would not stay for me, and who can wonder? He would not stay for me to stand and gaze. I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder, And went with half my life about my ways.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Poetry is not the thing said, but the way of saying it.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Nature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.
A. E. HOUSMAN