It is a tremendously hard thing to pray aright, yea, it is verily the science of all sciences.
I tried to peg out soldierly,--no use! One dies of war like any old disease.
I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity. Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense conciliatory. They may be to the next. All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful.
Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.
The old Lie:Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
We are opposing the exploitation of man by man, similarly we must oppose the exploitation of peoples by other peoples. . . but today this is no longer enough. . . we have to assist the peoples fighting for their independence to develop their economies, to increase their standard of living
The pressed oil of words can blaze up into music, into image, into the heart and mind's knowledge. The lit and shadowed places within us can be warmed.
Once you have the statement, it will design itself.
I'm lost in a transition. The old is dead, and I don't know what the new is. The only way to find the new is to start different things and see if there's something that can come out of experimentation. It's somewhat unsettling, but it's a hopeful thing in a way. I've been here before, lots of times.