Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
A. E. HOUSMANThey carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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Who made the world I cannot tell; ‘Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
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The house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.
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Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.
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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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The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.
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And how am I to face the odds Of man’s bedevilment and God’s? I, a stranger and afraid In a world I never made.
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I think that to transfuse emotion – not to transmit thought but to set up in the reader’s sense a vibration corresponding to what was felt by the writer – is the peculiar function of poetry.
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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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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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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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Stone, steel, dominions pass, Faith too, no wonder; So leave alone the grass That I am under.
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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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Poetry is not the thing said, but the way of saying it.
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In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.
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White in the moon the long road lies.
A. E. HOUSMAN