Wilfred Owen Quotes
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
Quotes to Explore
I'm trying to be a singer, not a civil rights leader.
Adam Lambert
I think the Democrats are catering to them, but, you know, in the entire history of the United States of America, there has never been a judge who has been refused a vote when there was a majority of Senators willing to vote for his confirmation, never in history.
Pat Robertson
Sometimes when you're making more errors you want to pull back, but I just need to keep going forward.
Venus Williams
It is not enough for me to ask question; I want to know how to answer the one question that seems to encompass everything I face: What am I here for?
Abraham Joshua Heschel
I liked the people at Brown, while I really disliked most of the fellow students I had met at Northwestern.
Ira Glass
One of the problems with putting Huck Finn into a movie or on the stage is, you always make the white people stupid and racist. The point is, they don't know they're racist.
Hal Holbrook
I do tend to lose track since the kids are out of school.
Marion Zimmer Bradley
People are not happy with women in actual power, yet we seem to be happy to take women on as figureheads, objects, like queens. It's a powerful yet politically powerless role.
Kate Williams
We want to create these dramatic situations, whether they are real or not, to entertain audiences.
Jerry Bruckheimer
I've done 20 takes of a Vine before it goes out.
Maisie Williams
Sometimes when you're drunk you can see better.
Damien Hirst
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
