When war is not just it is subsequently justified; so it becomes many things. In reality, an unjust war is merely piracy. It consists of piracy, ego and, more than anything, money. War is our century's prostitution.
Fare forward, travellers! not escaping from the past Into different lives, or into any future; You are not the same people who left that station Or who will arrive at any terminus, While the narrowing rails slide together behind you.
Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter. Old men ought to be explorers Here or there does not matter We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and the empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petrel and the porpoise.
What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
Art is the escape from personality.
We learn what poetry is - if we ever learn - by reading it.
The end is where we start from.
not fare well, but fare forward
If you start with a bang, you won't end with a whimper.
But it seems that something has happened that has never happened before: though we know not just when, or why, or how, or where.
Good poets borrow, great poets steal
Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable.
We do not pass twice through the same door Or return to the door through which we did not pass.
Teach us to care and not to care
I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice.
What profession is more trying than that of author? After you finish a piece of work it only seems good to you for a few weeks; or if it seems good at all you are convinced that it is the last you will be able to write; and if it seems bad you wonder whether everything you have done isn’t poor stuff really; and it is one kind of agony while you are writing, and another kind when you aren’t.
War is not a life: it is a situation, one which may neither be ignored nor accepted.
Words strain, Crack and sometimes break, under the burden, Under the tension, slip, slide, perish, Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place, Will not stay still.
The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason.
No place of grace for those who avoid the Face. No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the Voice.
Humankind can't stand too much reality.
The destination cannot be described; / You will know very little until you get there; / You will journey blind.
Accident is design / And design is accident / In a cloud of unknowing.
When oxygen and sulphur dioxide are mixed in the presence of a filiament of platinum, they form sulphurous acid. This combination takes place only if the platinum is present; nevertheless the newly formed acid contains no trace of platinum, and the platinum itself is apparently unaffected: has remained inert, neutral, and unchanged. The mind of the poet is the shred of platinum.
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