Thomas Hood Quotes

• What is a modern poet’s fate? To write his thoughts upon a slate; The critic spits on what is done, Gives it a wipe—and all is gone.

  Thomas Hood

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• No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member— No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,— November!

  Thomas Hood

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• No sun—no moon! No morn—no noon No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of day.

  Thomas Hood

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• But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!

  Thomas Hood

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• Mad from life’s history, Glad to death’s mystery, Swift to be hurled— Anywhere, anywhere, Out of the world!

  Thomas Hood

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• Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair!

  Thomas Hood

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• Oh! God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!

  Thomas Hood

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• O! men with sisters dear, O! men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you’re wearing out, But human creatures’ lives!

  Thomas Hood

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• 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

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• When Eve upon the first of Men The apple pressed with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not Adamant!

  Thomas Hood

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• Home-made dishes that drive one from home.

  Thomas Hood

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• Holland…lies so low they’re only saved by being dammed.

  Thomas Hood

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• ‘Extremes meet’, as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth.

  Thomas Hood

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• The sedate, sober, silent, serious, sad-coloured sect.

  Thomas Hood

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• She stood breast high amid the corn, Clasped by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.

  Thomas Hood

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• I remember, I remember, The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now ’tis little joy To know I’m farther off from heav’n Than when I was a boy.

  Thomas Hood

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• 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

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• The love that loves a scarlet coat Should be more uniform.

  Thomas Hood

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• For here I leave my second leg, And the Forty-second Foot!

  Thomas Hood

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• Ben Battle was a soldier bold, And used to war’s alarms: But a cannon-ball took off his legs, So he laid down his arms!

  Thomas Hood

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Thomas Hood (33)

Birth:	23rd May, 1799
Death:	3rd May, 1845
Nationality:	British
Profession:	Editor, Humorist, Playwriter, Poet

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