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Henry Austin Dobson Quotes

Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.

Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.

Henry Austin Dobson
Life, Time, Passing By
Proverbs in Porcelain (1877) "Paradox of Time"

O, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle! See the couples advance - O, Love's but a dance! A whisper, a glance, "Shall we twirl down the middle?" O, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle!

Henry Austin Dobson
Dance, Couple, Play

All passes, Art alone Enduring stays to us; The Bust out-lasts the throne,-- The coin, Tiberius.

Henry Austin Dobson
Art, Thrones, Coins
'Ars Victrix'

Love comes unseen; we only see it go.

Henry Austin Dobson
Short Love, Unseen, Seen And Unseen

Fame is a food that dead men eat, I have no stomach for such meat.

Henry Austin Dobson
Food, Men, Cooking
'Fame is a Food' (1906)

All the seasons run their race In this quiet resting-place; Peach, and apricot, and fig Here will ripen, and grow big; Here is store and overplus - More had not Alcinous!

Henry Austin Dobson
Running, Race, Peaches
Henry Austin Dobson, “A Garden Song”

He is a Patron who looks down, / With careless eyes on men who drown; / But if they chance to reach the land, / Encumbers them with helping hand

Henry Austin Dobson
Eye, Artist, Men

In the School of Coquettes Madam Rose is a scholar,-O, they fish with all nets In the School of Coquettes! When her brooch she forgets 'Tis to show her new collar; In the School of Coquettes Madam Rose is a scholar!

Henry Austin Dobson
School, Rose, Coquette

Old books, old wine, old Nankin blue;- All things, in short, to which belong The charm, the grace that Time makes strong, All these I prize, but (entre nous) Old friends are best!

Henry Austin Dobson
Strong, Book, Wine
Henry Austin Dobson, “To Richard Watson Gilder”

In merest prudence men should teach . . . That science ranks as monstrous things Two pairs of upper limbs; so wings-- E'en Angel's wings!--are fictions.

Henry Austin Dobson
Angel, Men, Wings

The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,-- It wavers to a rose.

Henry Austin Dobson
Beauty, Eye, White
'The Ladies of St James's' (1883)

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