237 Quotes by Dylan Thomas

Washington isn’t a city, it’s an abstraction.

And on seesaw Sunday nights, I’d woo who ever I would with my wicked eye!

Shall I let in the stranger, Shall I welcome the sailor, Or stay till the day I die? Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships, Hold you poison or grapes?

Come on up, boys -I’m dead.

A worm tells summer better than the clock, The slug’s a living calendar of days; What shall it tell me if a timeless insect Says the world wears away?

I sang in my chains like the sea.

A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery On the hill’s shoulder.

The condition of the world today is such that most writers feel they cannot truthfully be “comic” about it.

This bread I break was once the oat, This wine upon a foreign tree Plunged in its fruit; Man in the day or wind at night Laid the crops low, broke the grape’s joy.