Masefield Quotes & Sayings

O lovely lily clean, O lily springing green, O lily bursting white, Dear lily of delight, Spring in my heart agen That I may flower to men. — John Masefield

But Time and Tide and Buttered Eggs wait for no man. — John Masefield

Man's body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable. — John Masefield

Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man; it has become the amusement and delight of the few. — John Masefield

Men in a ship are always looking up, and men ashore are usually looking down. — John Masefield

It may be that we cease; we cannot tell.
Even if we cease, life is a miracle. — John Masefield

Humans consist of body, mind and imagination. Our bodies are faulty, our minds untrustworthy, but our imagination has made us remarkable. — John Masefield

So death obscures your gentle form, So memory strives to make the darkness bright; And, in that heap of rocks, your body lies, Part of the island till the planet ends, My gentle comrade, beautiful and wise, Part of this crag this bitter surge offends, While I, who pass, a little obscure thing, War with this force, and breathe, and am its king. — John Masefield

Beauty you lifted up my sleeping eye And filled my heart with longing with a look. — John Masefield

From '41 to '51I was my folk's contrary son;I bit my father's hand right throughAnd broke my mother's heart in two. — John Masefield

People who leave their own time out of their work cannot be surprised if their time fails to find them interesting. — John Masefield

God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays. — John Masefield

The sea has had Conrad and Stevenson and Masefield, but the mountains continue to defy the written word. We have climbed their highest peaks and crossed their most difficult passes, but still they keep their secrets and their reserve; they remain remote, mysterious, spirit-haunted. — Ruskin Bond

The luck will alter and the star will rise. — John Masefield

It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries. — John Masefield

Man cannot call the brimming instant back;
Time's an affair of instants spun to days;
If man must make an instant gold, or black,
Let him, he may; but Time must go his ways.
Life may be duller for an instant's blaze.
Life's an affair of instants spun to years,
Instants are only cause of all these tears. — John Masefield

All ye that pass by!
While we least think it he prepares his Mate.
Mate, and the King's pawn played, it never ceases,
Though all the earth is dust of taken pieces. — John Masefield

It is too maddening. I've got to fly off, right now, to some devilish navy yard, three hours in a seasick steamer, and after being heartily sick, I'll have to speak three times, and then I'll be sick coming home. Still, who would not be sick for England? — John Masefield

Life's battle is a conquest for the strong; The meaning shows in the defeated thing. — John Masefield

Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter. — John Masefield

So shall I fight, so shall I tread,
In this long war beneath the stars;
So shall a glory wreathe my head,
So shall I faint and show the scars,
Until this case, this clogging mould,
Be smithied all to kingly gold. — John Masefield

( ... ) It,s hard not to be able. There, look there!/ I cannot get the movement nor the light;/Sometimes it almost makes a man despair/To try and try and never get it right./Oh, if I could -oh, if I only might,/I wouldn,t mind what hells I,d have to pass,/Not if the whole world called me fool and ass.
Dauber (A poem). John Masefield. 1916. London William Heinemann — John Masefield

Lord, give to me who are old and rougher
The things that little children suffer,
And let keep bright and undefiled
The young years of the little child. — John Masefield

Christmas ought to be brought up to date," Maria said. "It ought to have gangsters, and aeroplanes and a lot of automatic pistols. — John Masefield

I have seen flowers come in stony places
And kind things done by men with ugly faces,
And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races,
So I trust, too. — John Masefield

Youth, youth- something savage- something pedantic. For example there is Mr. Masefield, there is Mr. Bennett. Stuff them into the flame of Marlowe and burn them to cinders. Let not a shred remain. Don't palter with the second rate. Detest your own age. Build a better one. — Virginia Woolf

When the last sea is sailed and last shallow charted,
When the last field is reaped and the last harvest stored,
When the last fire is out and the last guest departed
Grant the last prayer that I pray, Be good to me, O Lord. — John Masefield

In the dark room where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her. — John Masefield

Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult. — John Masefield

The corn that makes the holy bread By which the soul of man is fed, The holy bread, the food unpriced, Thy everlasting mercy, Christ. — John Masefield

Heaven to me's a fair blue stretch of sky, Earth's jest a dusty road. — John Masefield

Success is the brand on the brow of the man who aimed too low. — John Masefield

On the long dusty ribbon of the long city street,
The pageant of life is passing me on multitudinous feet,
With a word here of the hills, and a song there of the sea
And-the great movement changes-the pageant passes me. — John Masefield

Most roads lead men homewards, My road leads me forth — John Masefield

Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die. — John Masefield

Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind. — John Masefield

Man with his burning soul Has but an hour of breath To build a ship of Truth In which his soul may sail- Sail on the sea of death. For death takes toll Of beauty, courage, youth, Of all but Truth. — John Masefield

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain,
And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.
— John Masefield

And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage. — John Masefield

The Thames is a wretched river after the Mersey and the ships are not like Liverpool ships and the docks are barren of beauty ... it is a beastly hole after Liverpool; for Liverpool is the town of my heart and I would rather sail a mudflat there than command a clipper out of London — John Masefield

I must go down to the sea ... to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by ... — John Masefield

I have seen the Lady April bringing
the daffodils,
Bringing the springing grass and the
soft warm April rain. — John Masefield

The social states of human kinds Are made by multitudes of minds, And after multitudes of years A little human growth appears Worth having, even to the soul Who sees most plain it's not the whole. — John Masefield

Truly it is said, that knowledge is chief of all things, my son. It allows us to see clearly what we may achieve. Conjecture is no substitute for fact. — Richard Masefield

I hold that when a person dies / His soul returns again to earth; / Arrayed in some new flesh disguise / Another mother gives him birth / With sturdier limbs and brighter brain. — John Masefield

Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain. — John Masefield

Problem was, all this is new. In English at school we study a grammar book by a man named Ronald Rideout, read Cider with Rosie, do debates on fox-hunting and memorize 'I Must Go Down to the Seas Again' by Jason Masefield. We don't have to actually think about stuff. — David Mitchell

The distant soul can shake the distant friend's soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles. — John Masefield

Therefore, go forth, companion: when you find
No highway more, no track, all being blind,
The way to go shall glimmer in the mind.
Though you have conquered Earth and Charted Sea
And planned the courses of all Stars that be,
Adventure on, more wonders are in Thee.
Adventure on, for from the littlest clue
Has come whatever worth man ever knew;
The next to lighten all men may be you ... — John Masefield

Love is a flame to set the will on fire — John Masefield

Once in a century a man may be ruined or made insufferable by praise. But surely once in a minute something generous dies for want of it. — John Masefield

Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have. — John Masefield

State are not made, nor patched; they grow;
Grow slow through centuries of pain,
And grow correctly in the main;
But only grow by certain laws,
Of certain bits in certain jaws. — John Masefield

God dropped a spark down into everyone, And if we find and fan it to a blaze, It'll spring up and glow, like
like the sun, And light the wandering out of stony ways. — John Masefield

To most of us the future seems unsure. But then it always has been; and we who have seen great changes must have great hopes. — John Masefield

Love is a flame to burn out human wills,
Love is a flame to set the will on fire,
Love is a flame to cheat men into mire. — John Masefield

When Life knocks at the door no one can wait,
When Death makes his arrest we have to go. — John Masefield

All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by. — John Masefield

There are few earthly things more beautiful than a university a place where those who hate ignorance may strive to know, where those who perceive truth may strive to make others see. — John Masefield

In the power and splendor of the universe, inspiration waits for the millions to come. Man has only to strive for it. Poems greater than the Iliad, plays greater than Macbeth, stories more engaging than Don Quixote await their seeker and finder. — John Masefield

Each one could be a Jesus mild,
Each one has been a little child,
A little child with laughing look,
A lovely white unwritten book;
A book that God will take, my friend,
As each goes out at journey's end. — John Masefield

The three foundations of judgement: Bold Design, Constant Practice, and Frequent Mistakes. — John Masefield

In this life he laughs longest who laughs last. — John Masefield

Sea-fever
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. — John Masefield

I must go down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide, is a wild call and a clear call, that cannot be denied! — John Masefield

And he who gives a child a treat Makes joy-bells ring in Heaven's street, And he who gives a child a home Builds palaces in Kingdom come, And she who gives a baby birth Brings Saviour Christ again to Earth. — John Masefield

His face was filled with broken commandments. — John Masefield

Life is a long headache in a noisy street. — John Masefield

All the great things of life are swiftly done, Creation, death, and love the double gate. However much we dawdle in the sun We have to hurry at the touch of Fate. — John Masefield

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine. — John Masefield

The days that make us happy make us wise. — John Masefield

My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails. — John Masefield

Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French. — John Masefield

What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt Held in cohesion by unresting cells, Which work they know not why, which never halt, Myself unwitting where their Master dwells? — John Masefield

The Lord who gave us Earth and Heaven
Takes that as thanks for all He's given.
The book he lent is given back
All blotted red and smutted black. — John Masefield

But he has gone, A nation's memory and veneration, Among the radiant, ever venturing on, Somewhere, with morning, as such spirits will. — John Masefield