Stupid Pencil Maker
Some dummy built this pencil wrong,
The eraser’s down here where the point belongs,
And the point’s at the top – so it’s no good to me,
It’s amazing how stupid some people can be.
Stupid Pencil Maker
Some dummy built this pencil wrong,
The eraser’s down here where the point belongs,
And the point’s at the top – so it’s no good to me,
It’s amazing how stupid some people can be.
I love to doubt as well as know.
We used to think that if we knew one, we knew two, because one and one are two. We are finding that we must learn a great deal more about ‘and’.
One of the greatest pains to human nature is the pain of a new idea.
The Seven Ages.
The lives of three Wattles, the life of a hound.
The lives of three Hounds the life of a Steed.
The lives of three Steeds the life of a Man.
The lives of three Men, the life of an Eagle.
The lives of three Eagles the life of a Yew.
The lives of three Yews, The length of of an Age,
Seven Ages from Creation to doom.
Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.
I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy.
First Fig
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends–
It gives a lovely light!
Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a man’s pocket, because it cut down on the doctor’s bills like everything.
May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house.
A good listener is not only popular everywhere, but after a while he gets to know something.
You took away all the oceans and all the room.
You gave me my shoe-size in earth with bars around it.
Where did it get you? Nowhere.
You left me my lips, and they shape words, even in silence.
People generally quarrel because they cannot argue.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all doing direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
opening paragrapgh of “A Tale of Two Cities”
Tit for Tat
I often pass a gracious tree
Whose name I can’t identify,
But still I bow, in courtesy
It waves a bough, in kind reply.
I do not know your name, O tree
(Are you a hemlock or a pine?)
But why should that embarrass me?
Quite probably you don’t know mine.
Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something.
A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.
Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.
Adlestrop
Yes, I remember Adlestrop —
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop — only the name
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.
It is only by following your deepest instinct that you can lead a rich life, and if you let your fear of consequence prevent you from following your deepest instinct, then your life will be safe, expedient and thin.
They tell you that a tree is only a combination of chemical elements. I prefer to believe that God created it, and that it is inhabited by a nymph.
Wanting To Be Able To
‘Impossibilities’ are good
not to attach that label to;
since, correctly understood,
if we wanted to, we would
be able to be able to.
Tolerance is the virtue of the man without convictions.
Every high C accurately struck demolishes the theory that we are the irresponsible puppets of fate or chance.
What your heart thinks is great, is great. The soul’s emphasis is always right.
Who killed Cock Robin?
“I,” said the Sparrow
With my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin”
Who saw him die?
“I,” said the Fly,
“With my little eye,
I saw him die”
Who caught his blood?
“I,” said the Fish,
“With my little dish,
I caught his blood …”
Who’ll make his shroud?
“I,” said the Beetle,
“With my thread and needle,
I’ll make his shroud.”
Who’ll dig his grave?
“I,” said the Owl,
“With my spade and trowel,
I’ll dig his grave.”
Who’ll be the parson?
“I,” said the Rook,
“With my little book.
I’ll be the parson.”
Who’ll be the clerk?
“I,” said the Lark,
“I’ll say Amen in the dark;
I’ll be the clerk.”
Who’ll be chief mourner?
“I,” said the Dove,
“I mourn for my love;
I’ll be chief mourner.”
Who’ll bear the torch?
“I,” said the Linnet,
“I’ll come in a minute,
I’ll bear the torch.”
Who’ll sing his dirge?
“I,” said the Thrush,
“As I sing in the bush
I’ll sing his dirge.”
Who’ll bear the pall?
“We,” said the Wren,
Both the Cock and the Hen;
“We’ll bear the pall.”
Who’ll carry his coffin?
“I,” said the Kite,
“If it be in the night,
I’ll carry his coffin.”
Who’ll toll the bell?
“I,” said the Bull,
“Because I can pull,
I’ll toll the bell.”
All the birds of the air
Fell to sighing and sobbing
When they heard the bell toll
For poor Cock Robin.
To think is easy. To act is hard. But the hardest thing in the world is to act in accordance with your thinking.
The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend.
The Uncertainty of the poet
I am a poet.
I am very fond of bananas.
I am bananas.
I am very fond of a poet.
I am a poet of bananas.
I am very fond.
A fond poet of ‘I am, I am’-
Very bananas.
Fond of ‘Am I bananas?
Am I?’-a very poet.
Bananas of a poet!
Am I fond? Am I very?
Poet bananas! I am.
I am fond of a ‘very.’
I am of very fond bananas.
Am I a poet?
Call on God, but row away from the rocks
When ideas come to you, go for a walk; then you’ll discover that the thing you thought was a complete idea was actually only the beginning of a much larger one …