48 Quotes by Wendy Cope

Write to amuse? What an appalling suggestion! I write to make people anxious and miserable and to worsen their indigestion.

Bloody men are like bloody buses —You wait for about a yearAnd as soon as one approaches your stopTwo or three others appear.You look at them flashing their indicators,Offering you a ride.You’re trying to read the destinations,You haven’t much time to decide.If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.Jump off, and you’ll stand there and gazeWhile the cars and the taxis and lorries go byAnd the minutes, the hours, the days.

The day he moved out was terrible – That evening she went through hell.His absence wasn’t a problemBut the corkscrew had gone as well.

Another Christmas PoemBlood Christmas, here again.Let us raise a loving cup:Peace on earth, goodwill to men,And make them do the washing-up.

New SeasonNo coats today. Buds bulge on chestnut trees,And on the doorstep of a big, old houseA young man stands and plays his flute.I watch the silver notes fly upAnd circle in the blue sky above the traffic,Travelling where they will.And suddenly this paving-stoneMidway between my front door and the bus stopIs a starting point.From here I can go anywhere I choose.

A Green Song(to sing at the bottle-bank)One green bottle,Drop it in the bank.Ten green bottles,What a lot we drank.Heaps of bottlesAnd yesterday's a blank.But we'll save the planet,Tinkle, tinkle, clank!We've got bottles -Nice, percussive trash.Bags of bottlesCleaned us out of cash.Empty bottles,We love to hear them smashAnd we'll save the planet,Tinkle, tinkle, crash!

Differences of Opinion1 HE TELLS HER He tells her that the earth is flat --He knows the facts, and that is that.In altercations fierce and longShe tries her best to prove him wrong,But he has learned to argue well.He calls her arguments unsoundAnd often asks her not to yell.She cannot win. He stands his ground.The planet goes on being round.

I've said what I'm prepared to say in my poems, and then journalists think that you're going to tell them a whole lot more.

I think it's a question which particularly arises over women writers: whether it's better to have a happy life or a good supply of tragic plots.