A. E. Housman Quotes

That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

All knowledge is precious whether or not it serves the slightest human use.

The house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.

Poetry is not the thing said, but the way of saying it.

I sought them far and found them, The sure, the straight, the brave, The hearts I lost my own to, The souls I could not save They braced their belts about them, They crossed in ships the sea, They sought and found six feet of ground, And there they died for me.

Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out. Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.

I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.

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.

Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.

Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.

I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made.

A moment's thought would have shown him. But a moment is a long time, and thought is a painful process.

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs are little room, About the woodlands I will go To see the cherry hung with snow.

If a man will comprehend the richness and variety of the universe, and inspire his mind with a due measure of wonder and awe, he must contemplate the human intellect not only on its heights of genius but in its abysses of ineptitude.

Some men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.

To be a textual critic requires aptitude for thinking and willingness to think; and though it also requires other things, those things are supplements and cannot be substitutes. Knowledge is good, method is good, but one thing beyond all others is necessary; and that is to have a head, not a pumpkin, on your shoulders and brains, not pudding, in your head.

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.

The mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.

When the journey's over/There'll be time enough to sleep.

Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

Into my hear an air that kills through yon far country blows what are those blue remembered hills what spires,what farms are those? that is the land of lost content I can see it shining plain the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure.

They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man's.