"Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see."
Painting of Narnia by Pauline Baynes
"Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see."
- How doth the little crocodile
- Improve his shining tail,
- And pour the waters of the Nile
- On every golden scale!
- How cheerfully he seems to grin,
- How neatly spreads his claws,
- And welcomes little fishes in
- With gently smiling jaws!
- How doth the little busy bee
- Improve each shining hour
- And gather honey all the day
- From every opening flower!
- How skillfully she builds her cell!
- How neat she spreads the wax!
- And labours hard to store it well
- With the sweet food she makes.
- In works of labour or of skill,
- I would be busy too;
- For Satan finds some mischief still
- For idle hands to do.
- In books, or work, or healthful play,
- Let my first years be passed,
- That I may give for every day
- Some good account at last.
A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps,
And here you are the mothers' laps.This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?They are alive and well somewhere,
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
To My Valentine
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,
That's how you're loved by me.Image: Autograph and self-portrait by Ogden Nash
"He is a wonderfully accomplished man — most extraordinarily accomplished — reads — hem — reads every novel that comes out; I mean every novel that — hem — that has any fashion in it, of course. The fact is, that he did find so much in the books he read, applicable to his own misfortunes, and did find himself in every respect so much like the heroes — because of course he is conscious of his own superiority, as we all are, and very naturally — that he took to scorning everything, and became a genius."- Miss Knag speaking of her brother, Mr. Mortimer Knag,
a stationer and keeper of a small circulating library, in
The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby (1838-9)
Books are humanity in print.~ Barbara W Tuchman
A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul.~ Franz Kafka
Books let us into their souls and lay open to us the secrets of our own.~ William Hazlitt
When you reread a classic you do not see more in the book than you did before; you see more in you than was there before.~ Clifton Fadiman
The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as the charm of music dwells not in the tones but in the echoes of our hearts.~ Oliver Wendell Holmes
It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.~ Oscar Wilde
A book reads the better which is our own, and has been so long known to us, that we know the topography of its blots, and dog's ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins.~ Charles Lamb, Last Essays of Elia, 1833
Lord! when you sell a man a book you don't sell just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue - you sell him a whole new life. Love and friendship and humour and ships at sea by night - there's all heaven and earth in a book, a real book.~ Christopher Morley
No man can be called friendless who has God and the companionship of good books.~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Among my collection of signed books are volumes given to me by writers who were also friends along with others by writers, actors and celebr...