Quotes from Dylan Thomas

Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

Man be my metaphor.

Happy Cadaver's hunger as you take The kissproof world.

Glory cracked like a flea.

Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat, or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Good and bad, two ways Of moving about your death By the grinding sea, King of your heart in the blind days, Blow away like breath, Go crying through you and me And the souls of all men Into the innocent Dark, and the guilty dark, and good Death, and bad death, and then In the last element Fly like the stars' blood

Let him find no rest but be fathered and found, I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed, In the muted house, one minute before Noon, and night, and light. The rivers of the dead Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw Through his faded eyes to the roots of the sea. Go calm to your crucifixed hill, I told The air that drew away from him.

Older and wiser and no better

There's only a fellow sawing a woman in half this week.' 'Keep a half for me.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

though they go mad they shall be sane, though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; though lovers be lost love shall not; and death shall have no dominion.

And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

Do not go gentle into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light.

My education was the liberty I had to read indiscriminately and all the time, with my eyes hanging out.

A worm tells summer better than the clock, The slug's a living calendar of days; What shall it tell me if a timeless insect Says the world wears away?

Every device there is in language is there to be used, if you will. Poets have got to enjoy themselves sometimes, and the twistings and convolutions of words, the inventions and contrivances, are all part of the joy that is part of the painful, voluntary work.

He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.

Too many of the artists of Wales spend too much time talking about the position of theartists of Wales.There is only one position for an artist anywhere: and that is, upright.

A truly comic, invented world must live at the same time as the world we live in.

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

Light breaks where no sun shines; Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart; Push in their tides.

Love is the last light spoken.

As I read more and more - and it was not all verse, by any means - my love for the real life of words increased until I knew that I must live with them and in them, always. I knew, in fact, that I must be a writer of words, and nothing else.