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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 together To make money from each other'? or 'This is a community'?
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Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign?
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Today, you're halfway to 100! Here's to optimism, whether it is realistic or not. Happy 50th birthday!
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We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
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I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;Her coat is one of the tabby kind,with tiger stripes and lepard spots.
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The bad poet is usually unconscious where he ought to be conscious, and conscious where he ought to be unconscious.
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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
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Those who have crossedWith direct eyes, to death's other KingdomRemember us - if at all - not as lostViolent souls, but onlyAs the hollow menThe stuffed men.
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Quick now, here, now, always- A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one.
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Maturing as a poet means maturing as the whole man, experiencing new emotions appropriate to one's age, and with the same intensity as the emotions of youth.
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Weave the wind. I have no ghosts,An old man in a draughty houseUnder a windy knob.
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Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.
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Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
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Playwriting gets into your blood and you can't stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to.
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And I have known the eyes already, known them all - The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,Then how should I beginTo spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
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Whoever has approved this idea of order, of the form of European, of English literature, will not find it preposterous that the past should be altered by the present as much as the present is directed by the past. And the poet who is aware of this will be aware of great difficulties and responsibilities.
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I don't believe one grows older. I think that what happens early on in life is that at a certain age one stands still and stagnates.
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And the wind shall say: 'Here were decent godless people: Their only monument the asphalt road And a thousand lost golf balls.'
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The broad-backed hippopotamusRests on his belly in the mud;Although he seems so firm to usHe is merely flesh and blood.
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Our high respect for a well read person is praise enough for literature.
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He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair: For when they reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there!
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A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest.
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Television is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome.
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I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river Is a strong brown god-sullen, untamed and intractable.