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To all the starry host of Heaven they cried,
But had no radio and of course they died.

— Samuel Hoffenstein Year In You're Out (1930)

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More quotes by Samuel Hoffenstein

Breathes there a man with hide so tough
Who says two sexes aren’t enough?

Poems in Praise of Practically Nothing (1928)

My soul is dark with stormy riot,
Directly traceable to diet.

Year In You're Out (1930)

Your little voice,
So soft and kind;
Your little soul,
Your little mind!

Poems in Praise of Practically Nothing (1928)

Loyal be to loyal friends;
Make them pay you dividends;
Work, like the industrious bee,
Your friends and foes impartially.

Poems in Praise of Practically Nothing (1928)

The apple grows so bright and high,
And ends its days in apple pie.

Poems in Praise of Practically Nothing (1928)

All Samuel Hoffenstein quotes →

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Samuel Hoffenstein (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.