Quotes by Dylan Thomas
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter, Robed in the long friends,...
In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night...
The salt person and blasted place I furnish with the meat of a fable;...
The dust shall sing like a bird As the grains blow, as your death grows, through our heart.
Nutmeg, civet, and sea-parsley serve the plagued groom and bride Who have brought forth the urchin grief.
My one and noble heart has witnesses In all love's countries, that will watch awake;...
Chastity prays for me, piety sings, Innocence sweetens my last black breath,...
Though they be mad and dead as nails, Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;...
One Christmas was so much like another,...that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twleve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
Now stamp the Lord's Prayer on a grain of rice, A Bible-leaved of all the written woods...
You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick... You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps... so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in.
I just drank eighteen whiskies. That must be a record.
Oh may my heart's truth Still be sung On this high hill in a year's turning.
Someone's boring me. I think it's me.
I just had 19 shots of whiskey, I think thats a record.
A process in the weather of the world Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child...
A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone's knowledge of himself and the world around him.
... burned to tireless death A child of a few hours...
When the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.
Oh, let me midlife mourn by the shrined And druid herons' vows...
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And death shall have no dominion. Dead men naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon;
A fig for The seal of fire,...
18 straight whiskies - I think that's a record.
