Quotes to inspire and reflect

Come, friends, who plow the sea, Let’s vary piracee With a little burglaree. 1

When the foeman bares his steel, We uncomfortable feel,

When constabulary duty’s to be done, The policeman’s lot is not a happy one.

It is, it is a glorious thing To be a Pirate King.

I am the very model of a modern Major-General. I’ve information vegetable, animal, and mineral, I know the Kings of England, and I quote the fights historical, From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical.

He is an Englishman! For he himself has said it, And it’s greatly to his credit, That he is an Englishman!

For he might have been a Roosian, A French or Turk or Proosian, Or perhaps Itali-an. But in spite of all temptations To belong to other nations, He remains an Englishman.

Stick close to your desks and never go to sea, And you all may be Rulers of the Queen’s Navee!

Things are seldom what they seem, Skim milk masquerades as cream.

When I was a lad I served a term As office boy to an Attorney’s firm. I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor And I polished up the handle of the big front door. I polished up that handle so carefullee That now I am the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee!

And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts! His sisters and his cousins, Whom he reckons up by dozens, And his aunts!

And I’m never, never sick at sea! He’s hardly ever sick at sea! Then give three cheers, and one cheer more For the hardy Captain of the Pinafore!

I am the Captain of the Pinafore; And a right good captain too!

As innocent as a new-laid egg.

I’m called Little Buttercup—dear little Buttercup, Though I could never tell why.

Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo’sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain’s gig.

He thought he saw an Albatross That fluttered round the lamp: He looked again, and found it was A penny postage stamp. “You’d best be getting home,” he said, “The nights are very damp.”

He thought he saw a Buffalo Upon the chimneypiece: He looked again, and found it was His sister’s husband’s niece.

He thought he saw an Elephant, That practiced on a fife: He looked again, and found it was A letter from his wife. “At length I realize,” he said, “The bitterness of Life!”

For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway share; They charmed it with smiles and soap.

There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream, Scarcely even a howl or a groan, As the man they called “Ho!” told his story of woe In an antediluvian tone.

It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul.

It frequently breakfasts at five-o’clock tea, And dines on the following day.

“What’s the good of Mercator’s North Poles and Equators, Tropics, Zones and Meridian Lines?” So the Bellman would cry: and the crew would reply, “They are merely conventional signs!”

His answer trickled through my head, Like water through a sieve.

He would answer to “Hi!” or to any loud cry Such as “Fry me!” or “Fritter my wig!” To “What-you-may-call-um!” or But especially “Thing-um-a-jig!”

But answer came there none 6 — And this was scarcely odd, because They’d eaten every one.

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said: “I deeply sympathize.” With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes.

The Carpenter said nothing but “The butter’s spread too thick!”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried, “Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!”

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax— Of cabbages—and kings— And why the sea is boiling hot— And whether pigs have wings.”

And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more— All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand: They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: “If this were only cleared away,” They said, “it would be grand!” “If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose,” the Walrus said, “That they could get it clear?” “I doubt it,” said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear.

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!” The Walrus did beseech. “A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach.”

And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” He chortled in his joy.

The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright— And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night.

Child of the pure, unclouded brow And dreaming eyes of wonder! Though time be fleet and I and thou Are half a life asunder, Thy loving smile will surely hail The love-gift of a fairy tale.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!

The further off from England the nearer is to France— Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.

Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail, “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.”

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,” Said his father. “Don’t give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Be off, or I’ll kick you downstairs!”

Speak roughly to your little boy, And beat him when he sneezes: He only does it to annoy, Because he knows it teases.

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife; And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life.”

“You are old, Father William,” the young man said, “And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head— Do you think, at your age, it is right?” 2

“I’ll be judge, I’ll be jury,” said cunning old Fury; “I’ll try the whole cause, and condemn you to death.”