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The class distinctions proper to a democratic society are not those of rank or money, still less, as is apt to happen when these are abandoned, of race, but of age.
W. H. Auden
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W. H. Auden
Age: 66 †
Born: 1907
Born: February 21
Died: 1973
Died: September 28
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Wystan Hugh Auden
Wystan Auden
Wystan H Auden
W. H. Wystan Hugh Auden
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More quotes by W. H. Auden
No being can make another one happy.
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Of course,Behaviourism 'works'. So does torture.
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Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links, Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks, Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
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A man is a form of life that dreams in order to act and acts in order to dream.
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Most people call something profound, not because it is near some important truth but because it is distant from ordinary life. Thus, darkness is profound to the eye, silence to the ear what-is-not is the profundity of what-is.
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It's usually the stupid people that develop long illnesses. You need more than indolence and selfishness, you need endurance to make a good patient.
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All the literati keep An imaginary friend.
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To save your world you asked this man to die would this man, could he see you now, ask why?
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The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in.
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The surest sign that a man has a genuine taste of his own is that he is uncertain of it.
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By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems.
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Hemingway is terribly limited. His technique is good for short stories, for people who meet once in a bar very late at night, but do not enter into relations. But not for the novel.
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The nightingales are sobbing in The orchards of our mothers, And hearts that we broke long ago Have long been breaking others Tears are round, the sea is deep: Roll them overboard and sleep.
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Those who hate to go to bed fear death those who hate to get up fear life.
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You shall love your crooked neighbour, with your crooked heart.
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Narcissus does not fall in love with his reflection because it is beautiful, but because it is his. If it were his beauty that enthralled him, he would be set free in a few years by its fading.
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To make one, there must be two.
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Sob, heavy world Sob as you spin, Mantled in mist Remote from the happy.
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There must always be two kinds of art: escape-art, for man needs escape as he needs food and deep sleep, and parable-art, that art which shall teach man to unlearn hatred and learn love.
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Great art is clear thinking about mixed feelings.
W. H. Auden
