Hilaire Belloc

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

Just as there is nothing between the admirable omelet and the intolerable, so with autobiography.

— Hilaire Belloc

When I am dead, I hope it may be said: His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

— Hilaire Belloc

Remote and ineffectual don.

— Hilaire Belloc

Loss and possession, Death and life are one. There falls no shadow where There shines no sun.

— Hilaire Belloc

Be at the pains of putting down every single item of expenditure whatsoever every day which could possibly be twisted into a professional expense and remember to lump in all the doubtfuls.

— Hilaire Belloc

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

— Hilaire Belloc

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

It is sometimes necessary to lie damnably in the interests of the nation.

— Hilaire Belloc

I'm tired of love; I'm still more tired of rhyme; but money gives me pleasure all the time.

— Hilaire Belloc

The microbe is so very small: You cannot take him out at all.

— Hilaire Belloc

It is the best of all trades, to make songs, and the second best to sing them.

— Hilaire Belloc

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

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 3]The library was most inviting:The books upon the crowded shelvesWere mainly of our private writing:We kept a school and taught ourselves. [stanza 15]From 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 22]You 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