Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
More Quotes from Wilfred Owen:
All a poet can do today is warn.Wilfred Owen
A few, a few, too few for drums and yells,May creep back, silent, to still village wellsUp half-known roads.
Wilfred Owen
My arms have mutinied against me brutesMy fingers fidget like ten idle brats,My back's been stiff for hours, damned hours.Death never gives his squad a Stand-at-ease.
Wilfred Owen
Futility Move him into the sun Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds, Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides, Full-nerved still warm too hard to stir Was it for this the clay grew tall O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all.
Wilfred Owen
I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical analysis, or a physical law.
Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells, for these who die as cattle Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons.
Wilfred Owen
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Based on Topics: Sadness QuotesBased on Keywords: shrouded
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As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.
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The future is made of the same stuff as the present.
Simone Weil