Some men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man.
A. E. HOUSMANAll knots that lovers tie Are tied to sever. Here shall your sweetheart lie, Untrue for ever.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man’s deceiver Was never mine.
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The thoughts of others Were light and fleeting, Of lovers’ meeting Or luck or fame. Mine were of trouble, And mine were steady; So I was ready When trouble came.
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They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.
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Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.
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The house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.
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Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.
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Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see, And there you find your face too clear And love it and be lost like me.
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That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
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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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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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Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.
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The thoughts of others Were light and fleeting, Of lovers’ meeting Or luck or fame. Mine were of trouble, And mine were steady; So I was ready When trouble came.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
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.
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Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.
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On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble;His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;The wind it plies the saplings double, And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
A. E. HOUSMAN







