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Stephen Spender quotes - page 3
The names of those who in their lives fought for life, Who wore at their hearts the fire's centre. Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun And left the vivid air signed with their honour.
Stephen Spender
I'm pressed into the inside of a mask At the back of love, the back of air, the back of light.
Stephen Spender
The immediate reaction of the poets who fought in the war was cynicism...
Stephen Spender
I think continually of those who were truly great. Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history Through corridors of light where the hours are suns, Endless and singing.
Stephen Spender
What is precious is never to forget The delight of the blood drawn from ancient springs Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Stephen Spender
Of course, the entire effort is to put myself Outside the ordinary range Of what are called statistics.
Stephen Spender
History is theirs whose language is the sun.
Stephen Spender
The laurelled exiles, kneeling to kiss these sands. Number there freedom's friends.
Stephen Spender
What the eye delights in, no longer dictates My greed to enjoy.
Stephen Spender
The ultimate aim of politics is not politics, but the activities which can be practised within the political framework of the State.
Stephen Spender
In railway halls, on pavements near the traffic, They beg, their eyes made big by empty staring And only measuring Time, like the blank clock.
Stephen Spender
History has tongues Has angels has guns - has saved has praised - Today proclaims Achievements of her exiles long returned.
Stephen Spender
Consider. One bullet in ten thousand kills a man. Ask. Was so much expenditure justified On the death of one so young and so silly Lying under the olive tree, O world, O death?
Stephen Spender
I regard my life as rather a failure in the only thing in which I wanted it to succeed. I have not written the books I ought to have written and I have written a lot of books I should not have written.
Stephen Spender
A poet can only write about what is true to his own experience, not about what he would like to be true to his experience.
Stephen Spender
All the lessons learned, unlearned.
Stephen Spender
Since we are what we are, what shall we be But what we are?
Stephen Spender
The essential is That all the 'I's should remain separate Propped up under flowers, and no one suffer For his neighbour. Then horror is postponed For everyone until it settles on him And drags him to that incommunicable grief Which is all mystery or nothing.
Stephen Spender
The poetic method sees the centre of consciousness as the point where all that is significant in the surrounding world becomes aware and transformed.
Stephen Spender
Under the olive trees, from the ground Grows this flower, which is a wound.
Stephen Spender
The spirit drinking timelessness; Touch, love, all senses.
Stephen Spender
I am for neither West nor East, but for myself considered as a self - one of the millions who inhabit the earth...
Stephen Spender
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