Hilaire Belloc
English ⋅ Poet ⋅ BioJoseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc was an Anglo-French writer and historian who became a naturalised British subject in 1902. He was one of the most prolific writers in England during the early twentieth century. He was known as a writer, orator, poet, satirist, man of letters, and political activist. He is most notable for his Catholic faith, which had a strong impact on most of his works and his writing collaboration with G. K. Chesterton. He was President of the Oxford Union and later MP for Salford from 1906 to 1910. He was a noted disputant, with a number of long-running feuds, but also widely regarded as a humane and sympathetic man.
Quotes by English Poet Hilaire Belloc
I have wandered all my life, and I have traveled; the difference between the two is this -- we wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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I have wandered all my life, and I have also traveled; the difference between the two being this, that we wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #being
When I am dead, I hope it is said, 'His sins were scarlet, but his books were read'.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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Loss and possession, Death and life are one. There falls no shadow where There shines no sun.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #Death
We wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #travel
It is the best of all trades, to make songs, and the second best to sing them.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #Singing
Writing itself is a bad enough trade, rightly held up to ridicule and contempt by the greater part of mankind, and especially by those who do real work, plowing, riding, sailing
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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Is there no Latin word for Tea? Upon my soul, if I had known that I would have let the vulgar stuff alone.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #Coffee
All men have an instinct for conflict: at least, all healthy men.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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For no one, in our long decline,So dusty, spiteful and divided,Had quite such pleasant friends as mine,Or loved them half as much as I did. stanza 3The library was most inviting:The books upon the crowded shelvesWere mainly of our private writing:We kept a school and taught ourselves. stanza 15From quiet homes and first beginning,Out to the undiscovered ends,Theres nothing worth the wear of winning,But laughter and the love of friends. stanza 22You do retain the song we set,And how it rises, trips and scans?You keep the sacred memory yet,Republicans? Republicans?stanza 36
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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I shoot the Hippopotamus with bullets made of platinum, because if I use the leaden one his hide is sure to flatten em.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #Animals
Great artistic talent in any direction... is hardly inherent to the man. It comes and goes; it is often possessed only for a short phase in his life; it hardly ever colors his character as a whole and has nothing to do with the moral and intellectual stuff of the mind and soul. Many great artists, perhaps most great artists, have been poor fellows indeed, whom to know was to despise.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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Child! Do not throw this book about;Refrain from the unholy pleasureOf cutting all the pictures out!Preserve it as your chiefest treasure.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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The moment a man talks to his fellows he begins to lie.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #Conversation
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.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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It is sometimes necessary to lie damnably in the interests of the nation.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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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.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #Friends
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.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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I shoot the HippopotamusWith bullets made of platinum,Because if I use leaden onesHis hide is sure to flatten 'em.
Hilaire Belloc, poet
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- #Hunting
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