What the dead had no speech for, when living,They can tell you, being dead: the communicationOf the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
There is shadow under this red rock // (Come in under the shadow of this red rock) // And I will show you something different from either // Your shadow at morning striding behind you // Or your shado...
Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,I had not thought death had undone so many.Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,And each man fixed his...
The dripping blood our only drink,The bloody flesh our only food:In spite of which we like to think
For he will doAs he do doAnd there's no doing anything about it!-
But the Church cannot be, in any political sense, either conservative or liberal, or revolutionary. Conservatism is too often conservation of the wrong things: liberalism a relaxation of discipline; r...
We are being made aware that the organization of society on the principle of private profit, as well as public destruction, is leading both to the deformation of humanity by unregulated industrialism,...
When the Stranger says: What is the meaning of this city ?Do you huddle close together because you love each other?What will you answer? We all dwell togetherTo make money from each other? or This is...
I have heard the key Turn in the door once and turn once only We think of the key, each in his prison Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
I don't know much about gods, but I think the river is a strong, brown god
Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.
And the wind shall say: 'Here were decent Godless people:Their only monument the asphalt roadAnd a thousand lost golf balls.
Now that lilacs are in bloomShe has a bowl of lilacs in her roomAnd twists one in her fingers while she talks.Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not knowWhat life is, you who hold it in your hands...
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wre...
Gus is the Cat at the Theatre Door.His name, as I ought to have told you before,Is really Asparagus. That's such a fussTo pronounce, that we usually call him just Gus.His coat's very shabby, he's thin...
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,And that is the name that you never will guess;The name that no human research can discover--But the cat himself knows, and will never confess.Whe...
To make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
There will be time, there will be timeTo prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;There will be time to murder and create,And time for all the works and days of handsThat lift and drop a questio...
Honest criticism and sensible appreciation are directed not upon the poet but upon the poetry.
Not the intense momentIsolated, with no before and after,But a lifetime burning in every moment.