Shel Silverstein
Shel Silverstein
Sheldon Allan "Shel" Silverstein was an American poet, singer-songwriter, cartoonist, screenwriter, and author of children's books. He styled himself as Uncle Shelby in some works. Translated into more than 30 languages, his books have sold over 20 million copies. He was the recipient of two Grammy Awards, as well as a Golden Globe and Academy Award nominee...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionChildren's Author
Date of Birth25 September 1930
CityChicago, IL
CountryUnited States of America
If the track is tough and the hill is rough, THINKING you can just ain't enough!
It's amazing the difference A bit of sky can make.
Imagine - four years you could have spent travelling around Europe meeting people, or going to the Far East of Africa or India, meeting people, exchanging ideas, reading all you wanted to anyway, and instead I wasted it at Roosevelt.
And the tree was happy
How much good inside a day? Depends how good you live 'em.
This bridge will take you halfway there - the last few steps you will have to take yourself.
If you're a bird, be an early bird. But if you're a worm, sleep late.
He wasted his wishes on wishing.
If there is a book you want to read but isn`t written yet,write it.
Magic Sandra’s seen a leprechaun, Eddie touched a troll, Laurie danced with witches once, Charlie found some goblins gold. Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf, But all the magic I have known I've had to make myself.
My skin is kind of sort of brownish pinkish yellowish white. My eyes are greyish blueish green, but I'm told they look orange in the night. My hair is reddish blondish brown, but its silver when its wet, and all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.
When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots?
I can be someone's and still be my own.
A spider lives inside my head Who weaves a strange and wondrous web Of silken threads and silver strings To catch all sorts of flying things, Like crumbs of thoughts and bits of smiles And specks of dried-up tears, And dust of dreams that catch and cling For years and years and years...