He's a Blockhead who wants a proof of what he Can't Percieve And he's a Fool who tries to make such a Blockhead believe.
quote by William Blake
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Related quotes
Blockhead
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Blockhead
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Never leaves a gap
Unfilled
Always pays on time
Always fits the bill
He comes well prepared
Cube top
Squared off
Eight corners
90-degree angles
Flat top
Stares straight ahead
Stock parts
Blockhead
Never tips over
Stands up on his own
He is a blockhead
Thinking man full grown
He comes well prepared
Snake eyes
song performed by by Devo
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A learned blockhead is a greater blockhead than an ignorant one.
quote by Benjamin Franklin
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The great person is ahead of their time, the smart make something out of it, and the blockhead, sets themselves against it.
quote by Jean Baudrillard
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No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.
quote by Samuel Johnson
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He who deals with a blockhead will need a lot of brains.
He who has to deal with a blockhead has need of much brains.
Being a blockhead is sometimes the best security against being cheated by a man of wit.
quote by Francois de La Rochefoucauld
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A grave blockhead should always go about with a lively one - they show one another off to the best advantage.
quote by William Hazlitt
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The vanity of teaching doth oft tempt a man to forget that he is a blockhead.
quote by George Savile
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A blockhead, a dolt, a donkey, a leaden-headed fellow.
Clairvoyant, n.: A person, commonly a woman, who has the power of seeing that which is invisible to her patron - namely, that he is a blockhead.
quote by Ambrose Bierce
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The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read With loads of learned lumber in his head.
quote by Alexander Pope
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I have felt in my very blood, ever since I was born, a most unconquerable hatred towards the whole tribe of fools, and it arises from the fact that I feel myself a blockhead whenever I am in their company.
quote by Giacomo Casanova
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Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd
(Comus.) Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd;
Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap'd:
Come, my boys, come;
Come, my boys, come;
And merrily roar out Harvest Home.
(Chorus.) Come, my boys, come;
Come, my boys, come;
And merrily roar out Harvest Home.
(Man.) We ha' cheated the parson, we'll cheat him agen,
For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?
One in ten,
One in ten,
For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?
For prating so long like a book-learn'd sot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot.
(Chorus.)Burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot.
We'll toss off our ale till we canno' stand,
And Hoigh for the honour of Old England:
Old England,
Old England,
And Hoigh for the honour of Old England.
(Chorus.) Old England,
Old England,
And Hoigh for the honour of Old England.
poem by John Dryden
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Vignettes
“AND Smith has made money?'
'O, no; that's a myth:
Smith never made money
But money made Smith!'
_______________
A sculptor is Deming—a great man, too;
But the chisel of fancy the hand outstrips;
While he talks of the wonder he's going to do
All the work of his fingers leaks out at his lips!
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'A scholar, sir! To Brown six tongues are known!'
(The Blockhead! never spoke one thought his own!)
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Johnson jingled his silver—though he never had much to purloin;
But Jackson jingled his intellect—O, give us Johnson's coin!
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At school a blockhead—sullen, wordless, dull;
His size well known to even his smallest mate;
Grown up, men say: ' How silent! He is full
Of will and wisdom! ' Truly mud is great!
An honest man! Jones never broke the law.
The wretch behind the bars he scorned with pride.
But these same bars on every side he saw:
Jones lived in prison—on the other side.
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A hideous fungus in the wine-vault grows,
Liver-like, loathsome, shaking on its stalk:
Above the wine-vault, too (to him who knows),
The cursed mushroom lives and walks and talks.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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The Originals
A FELLOW says: "I own no school or college;
No master lives whom I acknowledge;
And pray don't entertain the thought
That from the dead I e'er learnt aught."
This, if I rightly understand,
Means: "I'm a blockhead at first hand."
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Epilogue to The Husband His Own Cuckold
Like some raw sophister that mounts the pulpit,
So trembles a young poet at a full pit.
Unused to crowds, the parson quakes for fear,
And wonders how the devil he durst come there;
Wanting three talents needful for the place,
Some beard, some learning, and some little grace.
Nor is the puny poet void of care;
For authors, such as our new authors are,
Have not much learning, nor much wit to spare;
And as for grace, to tell the truth, there's scarce one,
But has as little as the very parson:
Both say, they preach and write for your instruction;
But 'tis for a third day, and for induction.
The difference is, that though you like the play,
The poet's gain is ne'er beyond his day;
But with the parson 'tis another case,
He, without holiness, may rise to grace;
The poet has one disadvantage more,
That if his play be dull, he's damned all o'er,
Not only a damn'd blockhead, but damn'd poor.
But dulness well becomes the sable garment;
I warrant that ne'er spoiled a priest's preferment;
Wit's not his business, and as wit now goes,
Sirs, 'tis not so much yours as you suppose,
For you like nothing now but nauseous beaux.
You laugh not, gallants, as by proof appears,
At what his beauship says, but what he wears;
So 'tis your eyes are tickled, not your ears.
The tailor and the furrier find the stuff,
The wit lies in the dress, and monstrous muff.
The truth on 't is, the payment of the pit
Is like for like, clipt money for clipt wit.
You cannot from our absent author hope,
He should equip the stage with such a fop.
Fools change in England, and new fools arise;
For, though the immortal species never dies,
Yet every year new maggots make new flies.
But where he lives abroad, he scarce can find
One fool, for million that he left behind.
poem by John Dryden
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A proof is a proof. What kind of a proof? It's a proof. A proof is a proof. And when you have a good proof, it's because it's proven.
quote by Jean Chretien
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Nature
Nature is a purifier, a converting machine
If it's not so than life can't be seen
How dirty we are! Rivers are the proof
How selfish we are! Pollution is the proof
How ugly we are! Arms and ammunition is the proof
We are the destroyer a polluting ruffian
If it's not so than power strife can't be seen
How negligent we are! Water level is the proof
How foolish we are! Japan is the proof
How mad we are! War is the proof
O! Nature! Thou art divine providence
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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Fool
Fool,
You old fool,
Can't you follow
any old rule?
Step out of line
just one time
they'll make your thumbprint
be your sign.
Fool,
You old fool,
Can't you make believe
that you're real cool?
Think in your head.
Don't let it be said.
They'll make you wish
that you were dead.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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