My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
From Wilfred Owen
When I begin to eliminate from the list all those professions which are impossible from a financial point of view and then those which I feel disinclined to - it leaves nothing.
A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring of tissue, so does every poet put forth a fresh outlay of stuff at the same season.
I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for, am I called to, the Ministry?
If I have got to be a soldier, I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable.
Do you know what would hold me together on a battlefield? The sense that I was perpetuating the language in which Keats and the rest of them wrote!
Be bullied, be outraged, be killed, but do not kill.
She is elegant rather than belle.
All a poet can do today is warn.
Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do.
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