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Edgar Guest

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Also known as Eddie Guest, Edgar A. Guest, Edgar Albert Guest, E. A. Guest

American writer and poet (1881-1959)

Person · Open Library

Works
13

Top works

  • WI$E UP TO Wealth!
  • Making the House a Home
  • When Day Is Done
  • Just Folks
  • Heap o' Livin'

via Open Library + Wikidata

Music · MusicBrainz

via MusicBrainz · CC0

Listeners · Last.fm

Listeners
12
Total plays
16

<a href="https://www.last.fm/music/Edgar+Guest">Read more on Last.fm</a>

via Last.fm · Edgar Guest

Quotes

  • Life is a jest;Take the delight of it.Laughter is best;Sing through the night of it.Swiftly the tearAnd the hurt and the ache of itFind us down here;Life must be what we make of it.
  • When you get to know a fellow, know his joys and know his cares,When you've come to understand him and the burdens that he bears,When you've learned the fight he's making and the troubles in his way,Then you find that he is different than you thought him yesterday.You find his faults are trivial and there's not so much to blameIn the brother that you jeered at when you only knew his name.
  • Oh, you'll not be any poorer if you smile along your way,And your lot will not be harder for the kindly things you say.Don't imagine you are wasting time for others that you spend:You can rise to wealth and glory and still pause to be a friend.
  • To have no secret place whereinI stoop unseen to shame or sin;To be the same when I'm aloneAs when my every deed is known;To live undaunted, unafraidOf any step that I have made;To be without pretense or shamExactly what men think I am.
  • "How much do babies cost?" said heThe other night upon my knee;And then I said: "They cost a lot;A lot of watching by a cot,A lot of sleepless hours and care,A lot of heart-ache and despair,A lot of fear and trying dread,And sometimes many tears are shedIn payment for our babies small,But every one is worth it all.
  • It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roamAfore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

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Available in 5 languages

via Wikidata sitelinks · CC0