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Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.

Wilfred Owen

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Wilfred Owen
Age: 25 †
Born: 1893
Born: March 18
Died: 1918
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
Oswestry
Shropshire
Wilfred Edward Salter Owen
Owen
May
Noses
Willingness
Receive
Defined
Hits
Ambition
Nose
Number
Hitting
Numbers
Ambitious
Funny
Receiving

More quotes by Wilfred Owen

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I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for, am I called to, the Ministry?
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I, too, saw God through mud
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Flying is the only active profession I could ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.
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Do you know what would hold me together on a battlefield? The sense that I was perpetuating the language in which Keats and the rest of them wrote!
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All a poet can do today is warn.
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I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the big-gun gears and caused a permanent stoppage in all bolts and buckled with a smile Mausers and Colts and rusted every bayonet with His tears.
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If I have to be a soldier I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable
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Sweet and fitting it is to die for the fatherland.
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Dead men may envy living mites in cheese, Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys, And subdivide, and never come to death.
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Courage was mine, and I had mystery, Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery: To miss the march of this retreating world Into vain citadels that are not walled.
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The old Lie:Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
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I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds off into a poetical generality and vagueness.
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Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
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I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical analysis, or a physical law
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Walking abroad, one is the admiration of all little boys, and meets an approving glance from every eye of elderly.
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Those who, like the beasts, have no such Hope, pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
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Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels I would go up and wash them from sweet wells, Even with truths that lie too deep for taint. I would have poured my spirit without stint But not through wounds not on the cess of war.
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I tried to peg out soldierly,--no use! One dies of war like any old disease.
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All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
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And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
Wilfred Owen