Arthur Guiterman (/ˈɡɪtərmən/; November 20, 1871 – January 11, 1943) was an American writer best known for his humorous poems.
The carpenter is not the best who makes more chips than all the rest.
Active minds that think and study, like swift brooks are seldom muddy.
For the young Gaels of Ireland Are the lads that drive me mad, For half their words need footnotes And half their rhymes are bad.
Oh the saddest of sights in a world of sin Is the little lost pup with his tail tucked in.
God, give me hills to climb, And strength for climbing!
Of all cold words of tongue or pen, the worst are these: "I knew him when -
Scheme not to make what's Another's your own; Be not a Dog for the sake of a Bone.
The porcupine, which one must handle gloved, may be respected, but is never loved.
What one approves , another scorns, And thus his nature each discloses: You find the rosebush full of thorns, I find the thornbush full of roses.
It takes a bee to get the honey out
When life is woe, and hope is dumb, the World says, "Go!" The Grave says, "Come!
Oh, who would choose to be a traveler? --That anxious railway-guide unravelerWho spends his nights in berths and bunks,His days in chaperoning trunks;Who stands in line at gates and wicketsTo spend his means on costly ticketsTo Irkutsk, Liverpool and YapAnd other dots upon the map.
No true reform has ever come to pass Unchallenged by a liar and an ass.
Until the Donkey tried to clear The Fence, he thought himself a Deer.
God's Road is all uphill, but do not tire; Rejoice that we may still keep climbing higher.
I hope the Vandals had thorns in their sandals
In life as in football, fall forward when you fall.
When "Do no Evil" has been understood, Then learn the harder, braver rule, "Do Good.
It's lovely having grass and trees and flowers(Of course, at times, mosquitoes are a pest). Yes, life is life out here in Rangely Towers(Of course Some People like the city best)!
A Man consumes the Time you make him Wait In thinking of your Faults-so don't be late!