Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I, too, saw God through mud
All a poet can do today is warn.
She is elegant rather than belle.
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
My subject is war, and the pity of war.
So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.
The old Lie:Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
Sweet and fitting it is to die for the fatherland.
All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
Be bullied, be outraged, be killed, but do not kill.
Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.
All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.
Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do
Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.
I am marooned on a Crag of Superiority in an ocean of soldiers.
Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do.
My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.
Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Happy are men who yet before they are killed Can let their veins run cold.
All the poet can do today is warn. That is why true Poets must be truthful.
If I have to be a soldier I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable
I tried to peg out soldierly,--no use! One dies of war like any old disease.
I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a Poet's
I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a Poet's.
Heart, you were never hot Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot
If I have got to be a soldier, I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable.
Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.
Flying is the only active profession I could ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.
Whatever mourns when many leave these shores: Whatever shares The eternal reciprocity of tears.
Those who, like the beasts, have no such Hope, pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for, am I called to, the Ministry?
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds, But here the thing's best left at home with friends.
Was it for this the clay grew tall? O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?
Children are not meant to be studied, but enjoyed. Only by studying to be pleased do we understand them.
I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical analysis, or a physical law
The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet, and mean, I kick your head.
I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical analysis, or a physical law.
Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling
I thought of all that worked dark pits Of war, and died Digging the rock where Death reputes Peace lies indeed.
For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping may something have been left, Which must die now.
Walking abroad, one is the admiration of all little boys, and meets an approving glance from every eye of elderly.
No-man's land under snow is like the face of the moon: chaotic, crater ridden, uninhabitable, awful, the abode of madness.
The war effects me less than it ought. I can do no service to anybody by agitating for news or making dole over the slaughter.