Thomas Hood Quotes
May 23, 1799 – May 3, 1845
More Thomas Hood Quotes
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.
Thomas Hood— I Remember, I Remember, st. 1 (1827).
One more Unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly Young, and so fair!
Thomas Hood— The Bridge of Sighs (1844), st. 1-2.
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!
Thomas Hood— The Routledge Dictionary of Religious & Spiritual Quotations (p. 84)
O bed! O bed! delicious bed!That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Miss Kilmansegg, Her Dream.
Of horn and morn, and hark and bark,And echo's answering sounds,All poets' wit hath ever writIn dog-rel verse of hounds.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Epping Hunt, Stanza 10.
Straight down the Crooked Lane, And all round the Square.
Thomas Hood— A Plain Direction, st. 1.
Never go to France Unless you know the lingo, If you do, like me, You will repent, by jingo.
Thomas Hood— French and English, st. 1 (1839).
For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
Thomas Hood— Morning Meditations (1839).
What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched my eyeballs burn, :;:;:;:; I scent no flowery gust; But faint the flagging Zephyr springs, With dry Macadam on its wings, :;:;:;:; And turns me "dust to dust."
Thomas Hood— Ode Imitated from Horace (1844), st. 2.
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the “Song of the Shirt.”
Thomas Hood— St. 1. (The Song of the Shirt (1843))
Work! work! work! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work work work, Till the stars shine through the roof!
Thomas Hood— St. 2. (The Song of the Shirt (1843))
When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
Thomas Hood— Spring it is cheery; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
Thomas Hood— A Table of Errata; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
There's a double beauty whenever a swan Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
Thomas Hood— Her Honeymoon; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
Pity it is to slay the meanest thing.
Thomas Hood— Plea of the Midsummer Fairies; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
No solemn sanctimonious face I pull, Nor think I'm pious when I'm only bilious; Nor study in my sanctum supercilious, To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a Bull.
Thomas Hood— Ode to Rae Wilson; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
Each cloud-capt mountain is a holy altar; An organ breathes in every grove; And the full heart's a Psalter, Rich in deep hymn of gratitude and love.
Thomas Hood— Ode to Rae Wilson; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
Over the brink of it Picture it think of it, Dissolute man. Lave in it drink of it Then, if you can.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Bridge of Sighs.
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Song of a Shirt.
Well, something must be done for May, The time is drawing nigh To figure in the Catalogue, And woo the public eye. Something I must invent and paint; But oh my wit is not Like one of those kind substantives That answer Who and What?
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, The Painter Puzzled. In Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 576-77.
The moon, the moon, so silver and cold, her fickle temper has oft been told. Now shady now bright and sunny. But of all the lunar things that change, the one that shows most fickle and strange, and takes the most eccentric range, is the moon so called of honey!
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Miss Kilmansegg, Her Honeymoon.
There's a double beauty whenever a swan Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
Thomas Hood— Her Honeymoon.
It was not in the winter Our loving lot was cast: It was the time of roses We pluck'd them as we pass'd.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Ballad, It was not in the Winter.
Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to street Till think of that who find life so sweet! She hates the smell of roses.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Miss Kilmansegg.
The tulip is a courtly quean, Whom, therefore, I will shun.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Flowers.
Now, really, this appears the common case Of putting too much Sabbath into Sunday But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy?
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, An Open Question, Stanza 1.
'Tis strange how like a very dunce, Man, with his bumps upon his sconce, Has lived so long, and yet no knowledge he Has had, till lately, of Phrenology A science that by simple dint of Head-combing he should find a hint of, When scratching o'er those little pole-hills The faculties throw up like mole hills.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Craniology, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 597.
The pea is but a wanton witch In too much haste to wed, And clasps her rings on every hand.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, Flowers; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 591.
Up wi' the flowers o' Scotland, The emblems o' the free, Their guardians for a thousand years, Their guardians still we'll be. A foe had better brave the de'il Within his reeky cell, Than our thistle's purple bonnet, Or bonny heather bell.
Thomas Hood— Thomas Hood, The Flowers of Scotland; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 787.
