161 Quotes by Thomas Hood

Peace and rest at length have comeAll the day's long toil is past,And each heart is whispering, 'Home,Home at last.

When Eve upon the first of MenThe apple press’d with specious cant,Oh! what a thousand pities thenThat Adam was not adamant!

I saw old Autumn in the misty mornStand shadowless like silence, listeningTo silence, for no lonely bird would singInto his hollow ear from woods forlorn,Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn; --Shaking his languid locks all dewy brightWith tangled gossamer that fell by night,Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

As for my feet, the little feetYou used to call so pretty,There's one, I know, in Bedford Row,The t'other's in the City.

With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread.

Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!

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

Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.

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