W.H. Davies Quotes

Creativity is a flame that lights up and ignites the senses

Why that was the stars, my little ones, ' growled Kar, lifting his proud eyes to the endless heavens. 'For in the beginning, there was light.

But what I knew then was that nobody-- not even my mother-- was to be trusted in a strange world that showed very little of itself on the surface.

You can put the girl in a relationship..., " I began, putting my arm around her. "But you can't take the boy-crazy out of the girl, " Cassie finished.

When first I set eyes on The Isle of Wight Polar Bear, my world was filled, in that instant, with the magic and wonder of childhood - Suzy Davies, Author, "Snugs The Snow Bear

He [Jesus] had a terrible temper, you know, undoubtedly inherited from His Father.

I seemed to be the only person I knew without a plan that would put the world on its feet and wipe the tear from every eye. No wonder I felt like a stranger in my own land.

You are certainly unique. Everyone is unique. Nobody has ever suffered quite like you before because nobody has ever been you before.

Reading an author's Biography contributes to an understanding and enjoyment of their work, and gives a richness to the reading experience.

Writing which flows is more like play than work!

Claws grabbed his head from behind, curving round his face, serrated talons gouging into his eyes

The Professor gripped his axe, having pulled it, with some difficulty, from the boy's head.

If the world stops spinning, slowing to a crawl. I will continue to dream of you. Until, I no longer dream at all.

In Japan, however, if you against someone and create a bad atmosphere, your relations may break-off completely. People tend to react emotionally, and most are afraid of being excluded from the group.

Wake up! Be yourself, not a bad copy of something else!

There is no higher authority.

Never neglect the charms of narrative for the human heart.

Awareness Makes a Cure Possible.

Freedom without responsibility? What freedom is that? None at all.

It is winter, and very cold. There are icicles against the glass, and frost. I am tracing a pattern, before it melts. Before it fades, and is lost for good, like memories

I want to sling a stone, a small rock into a pool, see it ripple. I want to shake a tree, create a small storm..

The landscape is bathed in the honeyed light of morning. Sometimes the memory of winter comes again. And my days are colored reveries of you, my nights sensuous

I was an unwilling passenger leaving the Big Country. I would miss the mountains and the waterfalls, the treks on broad horses' backs to hidden villages in secret valleys.

Writing is...creating tattoos which are invisible, under your skin

Our eyes met. I kissed her soft face, and down the stairs they descended. Their voices blended into an echo, a murmur. I ventured barefoot into the bedroom. The dark gown lay crumpled upon the bed

There were women who navigated in canoes, holding their children, the beguiling wind blowing soft sleet kisses, raining upon their skins

She hands me an ornament of The Virgin Mary. "Pray to the Holy Mary, Mother of God!" I notice she has a gold chain round her neck. It has the holy cross and a shamrock

I was climbing high, high up Pen Dinas Head among the sparkling yellow gorse, sea birds and white heather, with the oily sheep huddled together against the wind

Oh my boy, you are so huggable and snuggable, is that why they callyou Snugs Bear?”“I’ve simply always been Snugs, ” Snugs said, with an unusual, mysterious air, for it was nearly time to go to bed.

I can see the caravanserai, like a mirage in the distance. The heat hums. I thought I saw water. What would you have on these trade winds for your comfort?

Cats – by day the most docile of God’s creatures, every one of them in the night enlisting under the devil’s banner – took the place by storm after the human voice had ceased.

When you can stop you don't want to, and when you want to stop, you can't...

You'll go far. How do I know? Because life is goosing you so hard you'll never stop climbing.

I shall be as brief as I can, for it is not by piling up detail that I hope to achieve my picture, but by putting the emphasis where I think it belongs.

The Fascist utopia, like that of the Communists, was false, and generated immense suffering. But there were those who dreamed it sincerely.

I was a talking lover, which most women hate.

I don't really know who I am, and I don't know when to stop, so if I see a great big threatening button that should never ever be touched I just want to do this!

It's the oldest story in the world. One day you're 17 planning for someday and then quietly, without you ever noticing, someday today. And then someday yesterday. And this is your life.

Merlin seeks assistance from Pigwiggen, the only one of Arthur's knights who is also a fairy, and they unite their enchantments to move the British Court to Turkestan. Lively end to Act One.

There are still a few of us booklovers around despite the awful warnings of Marshall McLuhan with his TV era and his pending farewell to Gutenberg.

Canada was settled in the main by people with a lower middle-class outlook and a respect rather than an affectionate familiarity for the things of the mind.

Whether you are really right or not doesn't matter it's the belief that counts.

The critic is the duenna in the passionate affair between playwrights actors and audiences - a figure dreaded and occasionally comic but never welcome never loved.

If a man wants to be of the greatest possible value to his fellow-creatures let him begin the long solitary task of perfecting himself.

The love of truth lies at the root of much humour.

As a general thing people marry most happily with their own kind. The trouble lies in the fact that people usually marry at an age when they do not really know what their own kind is.

If we seek the pleasures of love passion should be occasional and common sense continual.

It may be bizarre but in my opinion science offers a sure path to God and religion.

The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is in fact a return to the idealized past.

May I forget what ought to be forgotten and recall unfailing all that ought to be recalled each kindly thing forgetting what might sting.