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My subject is war, and the pity of war.
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
Pity
Subject
Subjects
War
More quotes by Wilfred Owen
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds, But here the thing's best left at home with friends.
Wilfred Owen
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
Wilfred Owen
I, too, saw God through mud
Wilfred Owen
I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds off into a poetical generality and vagueness.
Wilfred Owen
This book is not about heroes. English poetry is not yet fit to speak of them. Nor is it about deeds, or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, might, majesty, dominion, or power, except War. Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
Wilfred Owen
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
Wilfred Owen
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.
Wilfred Owen
All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.
Wilfred Owen
Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.
Wilfred Owen
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.
Wilfred Owen
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
Happy are men who yet before they are killed Can let their veins run cold.
Wilfred Owen
And Death fell with me, like a deepening moan. And He, picking a manner of worm, which half had hid Its bruises in the earth, but crawled no further, Showed me its feet, the feet of many men, And the fresh-severed head of it, my head.
Wilfred Owen
And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling
Wilfred Owen
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
These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.
Wilfred Owen
Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do
Wilfred Owen
Those who, like the beasts, have no such Hope, pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
Wilfred Owen
All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
Wilfred Owen
No-man's land under snow is like the face of the moon: chaotic, crater ridden, uninhabitable, awful, the abode of madness.
Wilfred Owen