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All my life I believed I knew something. But then one strange day came when I realized that I knew nothing, yes, I knew nothing. And so words became void of meaning. I have arrived too late at ultimate uncertainty.

Ezra Pound

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Ezra Pound
Age: 87 †
Born: 1885
Born: October 30
Died: 1972
Died: November 1
Autobiographer
Composer
Economist
Journalist
Literary Critic
Literary Historian
Poet
Radio Personality
Translator
Writer
Hailey
Idaho
Ezra Weston Loomis Pound
Ezra Loomis Pound
Knew
Believed
Came
Realized
Words
Despair
Nothing
Became
Something
Ultimate
Life
Meaning
Arrived
Late
Void
Strange
Uncertainty

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I have tried to write Paradise Do not move Let the wind speak that is paradise. Let the Gods forgive what I have made Let those I love try to forgive what I have made.
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Bureaucrats are a pox. They are supposed to be necessary. Certain chemicals in the body are supposed to be necessary to life, but cause death the moment they increase beyond a suitable limit
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Allow me to say that I would long since have committed suicide had desisting made me a professor of Latin.
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The eyes of this dead lady speak to me For here was love, was not to be drowned out. And here desire, not to be kissed away. The eyes of this dead lady speak to me.
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The apparition of these faces in the crowd Petals on a wet black bough.
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The difference between a gun and a tree is a difference of tempo. The tree explodes every spring.
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The Image is more than an idea. It is a vortex or cluster of fused ideas and is endowed with energy.
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In our time, the curse is monetary illiteracy, just as inability to read plain print was the curse of earlier centuries.
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I would hold the rosy, slender fingers of the dawn for you.
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That text is known to them that have the patience to read it, possibly one one-hundredth of one percent of the denizens. They forget it, all save a few Western states. I think somebody in Dakota once read it. The Constitution.
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Go to the adolescent who are smothered in family-- Oh how hideous it is To see three generations of one house gathered together! It is like an old tree with shoots, And with some branches rotted and falling.
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The history of an art is the history of masterwork, not of failures, or mediocrity.
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Fit for kings, formal gardens afford an earthly Elysium and the odd impression that we mere men might actually control nature for a time.
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The ant's a centaur in his dragon world. Pull down thy vanity, it is not man Made courage, or made order, or made grace, Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down. Learn of the green world what can be thy place In scaled invention or true artistry, Pull down thy vanity, Paquin pull down! The green casque has outdone your elegance.
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The artist is always beginning.
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The concept of genius as akin to madness has been carefully cultivated by the inferiority complex of the public.
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Technique is the test of sincerity.
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A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him.
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Literature is news that stays news.
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