We wrote verses that condemned us, with no hope of pardon, to the most bitter solitude.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
If there is something to pardon in everything, there is also something to condemn.
There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance.
The folly which we might have ourselves committed is the one which we are least ready to pardon in another.
I came to poetry through the urgent need to denounce injustice, exploitation, humiliation. I know that's not enough to change the world. But to remain silent would have been a kind of intolerable complicity.
Let us therefore be of a reverent spirit, and fear the long-suffering of God, that it tend not to our condemnation.
We shall suffer no attachment to literature, no taste for abstract discussion, no love of purely intellectual theories, to seduce us from our devotion to the cause of the oppressed, the down trodden, the insulted and injured masses of our fellow men.
There's a reason poets often say, 'Poetry saved my life,' for often the blank page is the only one listening to the soul's suffering, the only one registering the story completely, the only one receiving all softly and without condemnation.
A man may well be condemned, not for doing something, but for doing nothing.
But let us not too hastily triumph in the shame of Sparta, lest we aggravate our own condemnation.
Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, hast thou more of pain or pleasure! Endless torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee!
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