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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?

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
Life
Congenial
Fitted
Ministry
Called
Asks

More quotes by Wilfred Owen

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Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.
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Heart, you were never hot Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot
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These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.
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I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a Poet's
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My soul's a little grief, grappling your chest, To climb your throat on sobs easily chased On other sighs and wiped by fresher winds.
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Sweet and fitting it is to die for the fatherland.
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The old happiness is unreturning. Boy's griefs are not so grievous as youth's yearning. Boys have no sadness sadder than our hope.
Wilfred Owen
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Those who, like the beasts, have no such Hope, pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
Wilfred Owen
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Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
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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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Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
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The marvel is that we did not all die of cold. As a matter of fact, only one of my party actually froze to death before he could be got back, but I am not able to tell how many have ended up in hospital. We were marooned in a frozen desert. There was not a sign of life on the horizon and a thousand signs of death.
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Flying is the only active profession I could ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.
Wilfred Owen
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And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling
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Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds, But here the thing's best left at home with friends.
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Was it for this the clay grew tall?
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It seemed that out of battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which titanic wars had groined.
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Children are not meant to be studied, but enjoyed. Only by studying to be pleased do we understand them.
Wilfred Owen
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All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
Wilfred Owen
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The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
Wilfred Owen