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You must go to bed with friends or whores, where money makes up the difference in beauty or desire.
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
Must
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More quotes by W. H. Auden
Without communication with the dead, a fully human life is not possible.
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When someone between twenty and forty says, apropos of a work of art, 'I know what I like,' he is really saying 'I have no taste of my own but accept the taste of my cultural milieu.
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Routine, in an intelligent man, is a sign of ambition.
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We till shadowed days are done, We must weep and sing Duty's conscious wrong, The Devil in the clock
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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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What we have not named as a symbol escapes our notice.
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Music can be made anywhere, is invisible and does not smell.
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Does God judge us by appearances? I Suspect that He does.
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The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in.
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May it not be that, just as we have to have faith in Him, God has to have faith in us and, considering the history of the human race so far, may it not be that 'faith' is even more difficult for Him than it is for us?
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Criticism should be a casual conversation.
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The chances are that, in the course of his lifetime, the major poet will write more bad poems than the minor, simply because major poets write a lot.
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One rational voice is dumb: over a grave The household of Impulse mourns one dearly loved. Sad is Eros, builder of cities, And weeping anarchic Aphrodite.
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Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse's flowers will not last Nurses to their graves are gone, And the prams go rolling on.
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Defenceless under the night Our world in stupor lies Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair, Show an affirming flame.
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Learn from your dreams what you lack.
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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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God is Love, we are taught as children to believe. But when we first begin to get some inkling of how He loves us, we are repelled it seems so cold, indeed, not love at all as we understand the word.
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To be free is often to be lonely.
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Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.
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