Thomas Hood Quotes

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

I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.

What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.

How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.

I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn.

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

I resolved that, like the sun, as long as my day lasted, I would look on the bright side of everything.

When was ever honey made with one bee in a hive?

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!

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

I love thee - I love thee, 'Tis all that I can say, It is my vision in the night, My dreaming in the day.

How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!

Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.

Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.

Coquetry is the champagne of love.

Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.

Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

Bells are musics laughter.

Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.

So mayst thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears

He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.

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

And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast, And been bow'd to the earth by its fury; To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury - Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime, The regrets of remembrance to cozen, And having obtained a New Trial of Time, Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes, Are something more than fictions.