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Lovers have lived so long with giants and elves, they won't believe again in their own size.
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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Lovers
More quotes by W. H. Auden
The friends who met here and embraced are gone, Each to his own mistake.
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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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In a game, just losing is almost as satisfying as just winning... In life the loser's score is always zero.
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The lights must never go out, The music must always play
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Every man carries with him through life a mirror, as unique and impossible to get rid of as his shadow.
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Words are for those with promises to keep.
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Harrow the house of the dead look shining at New styles of architecture, a change of heart.
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Most people enjoy the sight of their own handwriting as they enjoy the smell of their own farts.
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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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Some books are undeservedly forgotten none are undeservedly remembered.
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But once in a while the odd thing happens Once in a while the dream comes true And the whole pattern of life is altered Once in a while, the moon turns blue
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The theater has never been any good since the actors became gentlemen.
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Slavery is so intolerable a condition that the slave can hardly escape deluding himself into thinking that he is choosing to obey his master's commands when, in fact, he is obliged to. Most slaves of habit suffer from this delusion and so do some writers, enslaved by an all too personal style.
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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.
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A professor is someone who talks in someone else's sleep.
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And none will hear the postman’s knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
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Cathedrals, luxury liners laden with souls, Holding to the east their hulls of stone.
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the child unlucky in his little State, Some hearth where freedom is excluded, A hive whose honey is fear and worry, Feels calmer now and somehow assured of escape
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One cannot review a bad book without showing off.
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Money is the necessity that frees us from necessity.
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