And malt does more than Milton can to justify God’s ways to man.
A. E. HOUSMANSome men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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Some men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man.
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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.
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The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.
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I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made.
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All knowledge is precious whether or not it serves the slightest human use.
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Nature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.
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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.
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Housman is one of my heroes and always has been. He was a detestable and miserable man. Arrogant, unspeakably lonely, cruel, and so on, but and absolutely marvellous minor poet, I think, and a great scholar.
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Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man’s deceiver Was never mine.
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When the journey’s over, There’ll be time enough to sleep.
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Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill.
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Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
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I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
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Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
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They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man’s.
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There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
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With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.
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And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
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Stone, steel, dominions pass, Faith too, no wonder; So leave alone the grass That I am under.
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Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.
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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.
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And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
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There, like the wind through woods in riot, Through him the gale of life blew high; The tree of man was never quiet: Then ’twas the Roman, now ’tis I.
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But if you ever come to a road where danger; Or guilt or anguish or shame’s to share. Be good to the lad who loves you true, And the soul that was born to die for you; And whistle and I’ll be there.
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June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter’s cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.
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When the journey’s over/There’ll be time enough to sleep.
A. E. HOUSMAN