Wilfred Owen Quotes

"Through the dense din, I say, we heard him shout
"I see your lights!" But ours had long died out."

Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,
Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.

Now begin
Famines of thought and feeling.

These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.
Memory fingers in their hair of murders
Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.
Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,
Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.

But let my death be memoried on this disc.
Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.
But let thy heart-beat kiss it night and day,
Until the name grow vague and wear away.

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.

Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.

There breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray
As men's are, dead.

Move him into the sun — Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
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

But they who love the greater love
Lay down their life; they do not hate.

Shall they return to beating of great bells
In wild train-loads?
A few, a few, too few for drums and yells,
May creep back, silent, to village wells,
Up half-known roads.

Voices of boys were by the river-side.
Sleep mothered them; and left the twilight sad.

The dust that fell unnoted as a dew,
Wrapped the dead city's face like mummy-cloth

I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair
But mocks the steady running of the hour
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here

move him into the sun-
gently its touch awoke him once,