Quote

If I have to be a soldier I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable

Wilfred Owen

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Wilfred Owen
Age: 25 †
Born: 1893
Born: March 18
Died: 1918
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
Oswestry
Shropshire
Wilfred Edward Salter Owen
Owen
Else
Anything
Must
Good
Unthinkable
Soldier
Historical

More quotes by Wilfred Owen

Image
I have perceived much beauty In the hoarse oaths that kept our courage straight Heard music in the silentness of duty Found peace where shell-storms spouted reddest spate.
Wilfred Owen
Image
No-man's land under snow is like the face of the moon: chaotic, crater ridden, uninhabitable, awful, the abode of madness.
Wilfred Owen
Image
My subject is war, and the pity of war.
Wilfred Owen
Image
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.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Walking abroad, one is the admiration of all little boys, and meets an approving glance from every eye of elderly.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Whatever mourns when many leave these shores: Whatever shares The eternal reciprocity of tears.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Flying is the only active profession I could ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
Wilfred Owen
Image
These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.
Wilfred Owen
Image
The Young Soldier It is not death Without hereafter To one in dearth Of life and its laughter, Nor the sweet murder Dealt slow and even Unto the martyr Smiling at heaven: It is the smile Faint as a (waning) myth, Faint, and exceeding small On a boy's murdered mouth.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Was it for this the clay grew tall? O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?
Wilfred Owen
Image
For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping may something have been left, Which must die now.
Wilfred Owen
Image
Happy are men who yet before they are killed Can let their veins run cold.
Wilfred Owen
Image
I, too, saw God through mud
Wilfred Owen
Image
The universal pervasion of ugliness, hideous landscapes, vile noises, foul language...everything. Unnatural, broken, blasted the distortion of the dead, whose unburiable bodies sit outside the dug outs all day, all night, the most execrable sights on earth. In poetry we call them the most glorious.
Wilfred Owen
Image
As bronze may be much beautified by lying in the dark damp soil, so men who fade in dust of warfare fade fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul.
Wilfred Owen
Image
And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling
Wilfred Owen
Image
I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical analysis, or a physical law
Wilfred Owen