“Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.” — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
Too many of the artists of Wales spend too much time talking about the position of theartists of Wales.There is only one… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
And time cast forth my mortal creature To drift or drown upon the seas Acquainted with the salt adventure Of tides that… — 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… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
A worm tells summer better than the clock, The slug's a living calendar of days; What shall it tell me if a… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
The best poem is that whose worked-upon unmagical passages come closest, in texture and intensity, to those moments of magical accident. — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
“Some people react physically to the magic of poetry, to the moments, that is, of authentic revelation, of the communication, the sharing… — Dylan Thomas Copy Share Image
“Lord Cut-Glass, in his kitchen full of time, squats down alone to a dogdish, marked Fido, of peppery fish-scraps and listens to… — 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
