John Betjeman Quotes & Sayings

What the Londoner sees in his mind's eye is that cluster of towers and pinnacles seen from Pentonville Hill and outlined against a foggy sunset, and the great arc of Barlow's train shed gaping to devour incoming engines, and the sudden burst of exuberant Gothic of the hotel seen from gloomy Judd Street ... — John Betjeman

Hymn tunes are the nearest we've got to English folk music.. — John Betjeman

And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky. — John Betjeman

One mark of good verse is surprise — John Betjeman

Oh better far those echoing hells
Half-threaten'd in the pealing bells
Than that this 'I' should cease to be - — John Betjeman

Silver and ermine and red faces full of port wine. — John Betjeman

Now if the harvest is over, And the world cold, Give me the bonus of laughter, As I lose hold. — John Betjeman

Too many people in the modern world view poetry as a luxury, not a necessity like petrol. But to me it's the oil of life. — John Betjeman

On out deathbeds we're not going to regret all the work we didn't do. We're going to regret all the sex we didn't have! — John Betjeman

Hymns are the poetry of the people. — John Betjeman

Topography is one of my chief themes in my poetry..about the country, the suburbs and the seaside ... then there come's love ... and increasingly; the fear of death. — John Betjeman

A whispering and watery Norfolk sound
Telling of all the moonlit reeds around. — John Betjeman

Norfolk would not be Norfolk without a church tower on the horizon or round a corner up a lane. We cannot spare a single Norfolk church. When a church has been pulled down the country seems empty or is like a necklace with a jewel missing. — John Betjeman

I have a Vision of the Future, chum. The workers flats in fields of soya beans tower up like silver pencils, score on score. — John Betjeman

There are two thing you need for a jolly good hymn.The first is a set of words that expresses the mood or sentiment of the worshipper.The second-and perhaps even more important- is a good tune..with a simple popular melody. — John Betjeman

Approval of what is approved of
Is as false as a well-kept vow. — John Betjeman

And I think it was the outline of that church tower at Belaugh against the sky which gave me a passion for churches so that every church I've past since I've wanted to stop and look in. — John Betjeman

Oh Wasn't it naughty of Smudges? Oh, Mummy, I'm sick with disgust. She threww me in front of the judges, And my silly old collar-bone's bust. — John Betjeman

Imprisoned in a cage of sound, even the trivial seems profound — John Betjeman

People's backyards are much more interesting than their front gardens, and houses that back on to railways are public benefactors. — John Betjeman

Soft and sun-warm, see her glide — John Betjeman

Ludlow ... is probably the loveliest town in England with its hill of Georgian houses ascending from the river Teme to the great tower of the cross-shaped church, rising behind a classic market building. — John Betjeman

I don't think I am any good. If I thought I was any good, I wouldn't be. — John Betjeman

Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death! — John Betjeman

I ought to warn you that my verse is of no interest to people who can think. — John Betjeman

It's strange that those we miss the most Are those we take for granted. — John Betjeman

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows. — John Betjeman

And behind their frail partitions Business women lie and soak, Seeing through the draughty skylight Flying clouds and railway smoke. Rest you there, poor unbelov'd ones, Lap your loneliness in heat, All too soon the tiny breakfast, Trolley-bus and windy street! — John Betjeman

And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date. — John Betjeman

Late-Flowering Lust

My head is bald, my breath is bad,
Unshaven is my chin,
I have not now the joys I had
When I was young in sin.
I run my fingers down your dress
With brandy-certain aim
And you respond to my caress
And maybe feel the same.
But I've a picture of my own
On this reunion night,
Wherein two skeletons are shewn
To hold each other tight;
Dark sockets look on emptiness
Which once was loving-eyed,
The mouth that opens for a kiss
Has got no tongue inside.
I cling to you inflamed with fear
As now you cling to me,
I feel how frail you are my dear
And wonder what will be--
A week? or twenty years remain?
And then--what kind of death?
A losing fight with frightful pain
Or a gasping fight for breath?
Too long we let our bodies cling,
We cannot hide disgust
At all the thoughts that in us spring
From this late-flowering lust. — John Betjeman

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans. Spare their women for Thy Sake, And if that is not too easy, We will pardon Thy Mistake. But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be, Don't let anyone bomb me. — John Betjeman