Hilaire Belloc

When friendship disappears then there is a space left open to that awful loneliness of the outside which is like the cold of space between the planets. It is an air in which men perish utterly. Absolute dereliction is the death of the soul.

[N]othing is worthwhile on this unhappy earth except the fulfilment of a man's desire.

I said to Heart, "How goes it?" Heart replied: "Right as a Ribstone Pippin!" But it lied.

Child! Do not throw this book about; Refrain from the unholy pleasure Of cutting all the pictures out! Preserve it as your chiefest treasure.

The tender Evenlode that makes Her meadows hush to hear the sound Of waters mingling in the brakes, And binds my heart to English ground.A lovely river, all alone, She lingers in the hills and holds A hundred little towns of stone,

From quiet homes and first beginning, Out to the undiscovered ends, There's nothing worth the wear of winning, But laughter and the love of friends.

Of courtesy it is much less Than courage of heart or holiness Yet in my walks it seems to me That the Grace of God is in courtesy.

Matilda told such Dreadful Lies, It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes; Her Aunt, who from her Earliest Youth, Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth, Attempted to Believe Matilda: The effort very nearly killed her.

Oh, my friends, be warned by me, That Breakfast, Dinner, Lunch, and Tea Are all the Human Frame requires.

Physicians of the Utmost Fame Were called at once; but when they came They answered, as they took their Fees, "There is no Cure for this Disease."

[A]lways keep a-hold of Nurse For fear of finding something worse

And what is there else but pleasure, and to what else does beauty move on?

Man may […] be master of his fate, but he has a precious poor servant. It is easier to command a lapdog or a mule for a whole day than one's own fate for half-an-hour.

Death […] people nowadays seem to regard as something odd, whereas it is well known to be the commonest thing in the world.

Then let us love one another and laugh. Time passes, and we shall soon laugh no longer—and meanwhile common living is a burden, and earnest men are in siege upon us all around. Let us suffer absurdities, for this is only to suffer one …

Write as the wind blows and command all words like an army!

'… and as to what may be in this book, do not feel timid nor hesitate to enter. There are more mountains than molehills …'

Oh! let us never, never doubt What nobody is sure about!

The Microbe is so very small You cannot make him out at all, But many sanguine people hope To see him through a microscope.

The Llama is a wooly sort of fleecy hairy goat, With an indolent expression and an undulating throat Like an unsuccessful literary man.

What! Would you slap the Porcupine? Unhappy child — desist! Alas! That any friend of mine Should turn Tupto-philist.

The Big Baboon is found upon The plains of Cariboo: He goes about with nothing on (A shocking thing to do). But if he dressed respectably And let his whiskers grow,

When people call this beast to mind, They marvel more and more At such a LITTLE tail behind, So LARGE a trunk before.

I shoot the Hippopotamus With bullets made of platinum, Because if I use leaden ones His hide is sure to flatten 'em.