Works in ChatGPT, Claude, or Any AI
Add semantic quote search to your AI assistant via MCP. One command setup.
His face - what would it have become? While calling him back in memory I have been haunted by the idea of the unalterable features of those who have … - Siegfried Sassoon
" "His face - what would it have become? While calling him back in memory I have been haunted by the idea of the unalterable features of those who have died in youth. Borne away from them by the years, we - with our time-troubled looks and diminished alertness - have submitted to many a gradual detriment of change. But the young poet of twenty-five years ago remains his world-discovering self. His futureless eyes encounter ours from the faintly smiling portrait, unconscious of the privilege and deprivation of never growing old, unconscious of the dramatic illusion of completeness that he is destined to create.
English
Collect this quote
About Siegfried Sassoon
Siegfried Sassoon (September 8, 1886 – September 1, 1967) was a British poet and writer, best remembered for the poems he wrote as a soldier in World War I. Decorated for bravery on the Western Front, he became one of the leading poets of the First World War.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Birth Name:
Siegfried Loraine Sassoon
Alternative Names:
Saul Kain
•
Pinchbeck Lyre
•
Siegfried Lorraine Sassoon
Related quotes. More quotes will automatically load as you scroll down, or you can use the load more buttons.
Additional quotes by Siegfried Sassoon
December stillness, teach me through your trees
That loom along the west, one with the land,
The veiled evangel of your mysteries.
While nightfall, sad and spacious, on the down
Deepens, and dusk embues me where I stand,
With grave diminishings of green and brown,
Speak, roofless Nature, your instinctive words;
And let me learn your secret from the sky,
Following a flock of steadfast-journeying birds
In lone remote migration beating by.
December stillness, crossed by twilight roads,
Teach me to travel far and bear my loads.
"Vision"
I love all things that pass: their briefness is
Music that fades on transient silences.
Winds, birds, and glittering leaves that flare and fall — They fling delight across the world; they call
To rhythmic-flashing limbs that rove and race…
A moment in the dawn for Youth’s lit face;
A moment’s passion, closing on the cry — ‘O Beauty, born of lovely things that die!
To The Warmongers
I'm back again from hell
With loathsome thoughts to sell;
secrets of death to tell;
And horrors from the abyss.
Young faces bleared with blood
sucked down into the mud,
You shall hear things like this,
Till the tormented slain
Crawl round and once again,
With limbs that twist awry
Moan out their brutish pain,
As the fighters pass them by.
For you our battles shine
With triumph half-divine;
And the glory of the dead
Kindles in each proud eye.
But a curse is on my head,
That shall not be unsaid,
And the wounds in my heart are red,
For I have watched them die.
Loading...