A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
The closer I move To death, one man through his sundered hulks, The louder the sun blooms And the tusked, ramshackling sea… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
When logics die, The secret of the soil grows through the eye, And blood jumps in the sun; Above the waste allotments… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down, And death shall have no dominion. — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Light breaks where no sun shines; Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart; Push in their tides. — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Man’s wants remain unsatisfied till death. Then, when his soul is naked, is he one With the man in the wind, and… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Good-bye, good luck, struckthe sun and the moon, To the fisherman lost on the land. He stands alone at the door ofhis… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
I liked the taste of beer, its live, white lather, its brass-bright depths, the sudden world through the wet-brown walls of the glass, the… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
There is only one position for an artist anywhere; and that is upright. — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
“Thousands of miles,' I said. It's Rhosilli, USA. We're going to camp on a bit of rock that wobbles in the winds.” — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Youth calls to age across the tired years: 'What have you found,' he cries, 'what have you sought?" 'What have you found,' age answers… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Do not go gentle into that goodnight, rage, rage against the dying of the light. — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
A born writer is born scrofulous; his career is an accident dictated by physical or circumstantial disabilities. — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Rhianon, he said, hold my hand, Rhianon. She did not hear him, but stood over his bed and fixed him with an unbroken sorrow.… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
I know in London a Welsh hairdresser who has striven so vehemently to abolish his accent that he sounds like a man speaking with… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Dark is a way and light is a place, Heaven that never was Nor will be ever is always true "Poem on His Birthday — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
