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The theater has never been any good since the actors became gentlemen.

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
Gentleman
Became
Theater
Since
Acting
Actors
Good
Never
Gentlemen

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The eye likes novelty, but the ear craves familiarity.
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To have a sense of sin means to feel guilty at there being an ethical choice to make, a guilt which, however good I may become, remains unchanged.
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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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See without looking, hear without listening, breathe without asking.
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You owe it to all of us all get on with what you're good at.
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Of all possible subjects, travel is the most difficult for an artist, as it is the easiest for a journalist.
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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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I know nothing, except what everyone knows - if there when Grace dances, I should dance.
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Fate succumbs many a species: one alone jeopardises itself.
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Follow, poet, follow right To the bottom of the night, With your unconstraining voice Still persuade us to rejoice With the farming of a verse Make a vineyard of the curse, Sing of human unsuccess In a rapture of distress In the deserts of the heart Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days Teach the free man how to praise.
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America has always been a country of amateurs where the professional, that is to say, the man who claims authority as a member of an élite which knows the law in some field or other, is an object of distrust and resentment.
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Rhymes, meters, stanza forms, etc., are like servants. If the master is fair enough to win their affection and firm enough to command their respect, the result is an orderly happy household. If he is too tyrannical, they give notice if he lacks authority, they become slovenly, impertinent, drunk and dishonest.
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Beauty, midnight, vision dies: Let the winds of dawn that blow Softly round your dreaming head Such a day of welcome show Eye and knocking heart may bless, Find our mortal world enough Noons of dryness find you fed By the involuntary powers, Nights of insult let you pass Watched by every human love.
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Recipe for the upbringing of a poet: 'As much neurosis as the child can bear.
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Weep for the lives your wishes never led.
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