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Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems.

W. H. Auden

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W. H. Auden
Age: 66 †
Born: 1907
Born: February 21
Died: 1973
Died: September 28
Author
Composer
Essayist
Librettist
Literary Critic
Literary Historian
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
University Teacher
Writer
Jórvík
Wystan Hugh Auden
Wystan Auden
Wystan H Auden
W. H. Wystan Hugh Auden
River
Peasant
Forests
Tongues
Illness
Wolves
Tongue
Peasants
Kept
Mourning
Rivers
Fashionable
Poet
Ran
Evergreen
Death
Poems
Evergreens

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No hero is mortal till he dies.
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If it form the one landscape that we the inconstant ones Are consistently homesick for, this is chiefly Because it dissolves in water.
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Courses in prosody, rhetoric and comparative philology would be required of all students, and every student would have to select three courses out of courses in mathematics, natural history, geology, meteorology, archaeology, mythology, liturgics, cooking.
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Aside from purely technical analysis, nothing can be said about music, except when it is bad when it is good, one can only listen and be grateful.
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There is a certain kind of person who is so dominated by the desire to be loved for himself alone that he has constantly to test those around him by tiresome behavior what he says and does must be admired, not because it is intrinsically admirable, but because it is his remark, his act. Does not this explain a good deal of avant-garde art?
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All wishes, whatever their apparent content, have the same and unvarying meaning: I refuse to be what I am.
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Sincerity is technique.
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In relation to a writer, most readers believe in the Double Standard: they may be unfaithful to him as often as they like, but he must never, never be unfaithful to them.
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All I have is a voice.
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To me Art's subject is the human clay, / And landscape but a background to a torso / All Cezanne's apples I would give away / For one small Goya or a Daumier.
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Lovers have lived so long with giants and elves, they won't believe again in their own size.
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Fate succumbs many a species: one alone jeopardises itself.
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History is, strictly speaking, the study of questions the study of answers belongs to anthropology and sociology.
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Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave Proves the child ephemeral
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Anyone who has a child today should train him to be either a physicist or a ballet dancer. Then he'll escape.
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The relation of faith between subject and object is unique in every case. Hundreds may believe, but each has to believe by himself.
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