The train, panting up past lonely farms, Fed by the fireman's restless arms . . . Past cotton grass and moorland boulder, Shoveling white steam over her shoulder.
More Quotes from W. H. Auden:
We all have these places where shy humiliations gambol on sunny afternoons.W. H. Auden
This great society is going smash; They cannot fool us with how fast they go, How much they cost each other and the gods; A culture is no better than its woods.
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Fame often makes a writer vain, but seldom makes him proud.
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All that we are not stares back at what we are.
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Five minutes on even the nicest mountain; Is awfully long.
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In a world of prayer, we are all equal in the sense that each of us is a unique person, with a unique perspective on the world, a member of a class of one.
W. H. Auden
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