Quotes from Thomas Hood

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn; -- Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

Peace and rest at length have come All the day's long toil is past, And each heart is whispering, 'Home, Home at last.

We thought her dying whilst she slept, And sleeping when she died.

Easy reading is damned hard writing.

When Eve upon the first of Men The apple press'd with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not adamant!

To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.

As for my feet, the little feet You used to call so pretty, There's one, I know, in Bedford Row, The t'other's in the City.

Work—work—work Till the brain begins to swim; Work—work—work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream!

Oh, Men, with Sisters dear! Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives! Stitch—stitch—stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt.

The easiest reading is damned hard writing.

There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be, In the cold grave-under the deep deep sea.

When Eve upon the first of men The apple pressed with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not adamant.

The year's in the wane; There is nothing adoring; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives warning!

There are three things which the public will always clamor for, sooner or later: namely, novelty, novelty, novelty.

It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives.

O bed! O bed! Delicious bed! That heaven on earth to the weary head!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold

Ben Battle was a soldier bold, and used to war's alarms, But a cannon-ball took off his legs, so he laid down his arms.

A name, it has more than nominal worth, And belongs to good or bad luck at birth

English I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November!

O God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!

Oh! would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now And have a good cry!

A moment's thinking is an hour in words.