One of the most widely appreciated and imitated writers of light verse, Frediric Ogden Nash was born in Rye, New York, on August 19, 1902, to Edmund Strudwick and Mattie Nash. He came from a distinguished family; the city of Nashville, Tennessee, was named in honor of one of his forbearers. Nash attended Harvard College, but dropped out after only one year. He worked briefly on Wall Street, and as a schoolteacher, before becoming a copywriter. In 1925, he took a job in the marketing department with the publishing house Doubleday.
The New York Times said his “droll verse with its unconventional rhymes made him the country’s best-known producer of humorous poetry”. Nash wrote over 500 pieces of comic verse. The best of his work was published in 14 volumes between 1931 and 1972.
The door of a bigoted mind opens outwards so that the only result of the pressure of facts upon it is to close it more snugly.
Middle-age is when you’re sitting at home on a Saturday night and the telephone rings and you hope it isn’t for you.
Some tortures are physical And some are mental, But the one that is both Is dental.
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.
Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.
Progress might have been all right once, but it’s gone on too long.
A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.
To love is an active verb.
Humor is the best means of surviving in a difficult world.
Humor is hope’s companion in arms. It is not brash, it is not cheap, it is not heartless. Among other things I think humor is a shield, a weapon, a survival kit.
Here’s a good rule of thumb; too clever is dumb.
My garden will never make me famous, I’m a horticultural ignoramus.
The dog is man’s best friend. He has a tail on one end. Up in front he has teeth. And four legs underneath.
The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state the dog is full of love.
I’ve also proved, by actual test,
A wet dog is the lovingest.”
Any hound a porcupine nudges
Can’t be blamed for harboring grudges.
I know one hound that laughed all winter
At a porcupine that sat on a splinter.