Quotes from Henry Lawson

Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways, And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low, I'm at home and at ease on a track that I know not, And restless and lost on a road that I know.

It is quite time that our children were taught a little more about their country, for shame's sake.

The children are taught more of the meanest state in Europe than of the country they are born and bred in, despite the singularity of its characteristics, the interest of its history, the rapidity of its advance, and the stupendous promise of its future.

Why on earth do we want closer connection with England? We have little in common with English people except our language. We are fast becoming an entirely different people.

Who says Australia offers not a home for every poor Englishman, or any other countryman that finds his way to our shores? And what sort of thanks do we get for it?

Beer makes you feel the way you ought to feel without beer.

It is a matter of public shame that while we have now commemorated our hundredth anniversary, not one in every ten children attending Public schools throughout the colonies is acquainted with a single historical fact about Australia.

On the same line of reasoning, if Australians were to be Australians, or rather if Australians were as separate from any other nation as Australia from any other land, there would be no jealousy between them on England's account.

The Giraffe took the horse's head and led him along on the most level parts of the road towards the railway station, and two or three chaps went along to help get the sick man into the train.

It is the same with revolution; so long as the proper spirit is spreading amongst our young men, we are satisfied that it spreads without bombast or parade.

I've never seen anyone rehabilitated by punishment.

We shall never be understood or respected by the English until we carry our individuality to extremes, and by asserting our independence, become of sufficient consequence in their eyes to merit a closer study than they have hitherto accorded us.

And opposite the bench, the dock, divided by a partition, with the women to the left and the men to the right, as it is on the stairs or the block in polite society.

Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways, And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low, I'm at home and at ease on a track that I know not, And restless and lost on a road that I know.

It is a matter of public shame that while we have now commemorated our hundredth anniversary, not one in every ten children attending Public schools throughout the colonies is acquainted with a single historical fact about Australia.

On the same line of reasoning, if Australians were to be Australians, or rather if Australians were as separate from any other nation as Australia from any other land, there would be no jealousy between them on England's account.

Beer makes you feel the way you ought to feel without beer.

Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways, And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low, I'm at home and at ease on a track that I know not, And restless and lost on a road that I know.

Grey eyes that grow sadder than sunset or rain, Fond heart that is ever more true Firm faith that grows firmer for watching in vain--- She'll wait by the sliprails for you.

We fight it down, and we live it down, or we bear it bravely well, But the best men die of a broken heart for the things they cannot tell.

here is nothing to see, however, and not a soul to meet. You might walk for twenty miles along this track without being able to fix a point in your mind, unless you are a bushman. This is because of the everlasting, maddening sameness of the stunted trees - that monotony which makes a man long to break away and travel as far as trains can go, and sail as far as ship can sail - and farther.

Do you think now and then, now or then, in the whirl Of the city, while London is new, Of the hut in the Bush, and the freckled-faced girl Who is eating her heart out for you?

The fields are fair in autumn yet, and the sun's still shining there, but we bow our heads and we brood and fret, because of the masks we wear, Or we nod and smile the social while, and we say we're doing well, But we break our herts! For the things we must not tell.

I was human, very human, and if in the days misspent I have injured man or woman, it was done without intent. If at times I blundered blindly — bitter heart and aching brow — If I wrote a line unkindly — I am sorry for it now.