Dylan Thomas Quotes

112 quotes in 1459 categories

• Poetry is not the most important thing in life... I'd much rather lie in a hot bath reading Agatha Christie and sucking sweets.
• I love you so much I’ll never be able to tell you; I’m frightened to tell you. I can always feel your heart. Dance tunes…
• And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky room, Jim's Aunt, Miss. Prothero, came downstairs and peered in…
• [I'm]a freak user of words, not a poet.
• I sang in my chains like the sea
• Me, Polly Garter, under the washing line, giving the breast in the garden to my bonny new baby. Nothing grows in our garden, only washing.…
• I know we're not saints or virgins or lunatics; we know all the lust and lavatory jokes, and most of the dirty people; we can…
• Youth calls to age across the tired years: 'What have you found,' he cries, 'what have you sought?" 'What have you found,' age answers through…
• Dark is a way and light is a place, Heaven that never was Nor will be ever is always true "Poem on His Birthday
• To begin, at the beginning...
• In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And the lovers lie abed With all their griefs…
• Man’s wants remain unsatisfied till death. Then, when his soul is naked, is he one With the man in the wind, and the west moon,…
• Friend, my enemy, I call you out. You, you, you there with a bad thorn in your side. You there, my friend, with a winning…
• The only sea I saw Was the seesaw sea With you riding on it. Lie down, lie easy. Let me shipwreck in your thighs.
• And books which told me everything about the wasp, except why.
• And now, gentlemen, like your manners, I must leave you.
• And death shall have no dominion. Under the windings of the sea They lying long shall not die windily; Twisting on racks when sinews give…
• Nothing grows in our garden, only washing. And babies.
• Rhianon, he said, hold my hand, Rhianon. She did not hear him, but stood over his bed and fixed him with an unbroken sorrow. Hold…
• It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbledstreets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the…

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