Quote

And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling

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
Solve
Doubt
Feeling
War
Shelling
Feelings
Solves
Best
Dullness
Even
Tease
Cease

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Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do
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Children are not meant to be studied, but enjoyed. Only by studying to be pleased do we understand them.
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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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Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
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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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No-man's land under snow is like the face of the moon: chaotic, crater ridden, uninhabitable, awful, the abode of madness.
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I, too, saw God through mud - The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled. War brought more glory to their eyes than blood, And gave their laughs more glee than shakes a child.
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Strange friend,' I said,'here is no cause to mourn.' 'None,'said the other,'save the undone years, The hopelessness.Whatever hope is yours Was my life also I went hunting wild After the wildest beauty in the world.
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Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.
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Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.
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The old Lie:Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
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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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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.
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My subject is war, and the pity of war.
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And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
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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.
Wilfred Owen
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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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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.
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I tried to peg out soldierly,--no use! One dies of war like any old disease.
Wilfred Owen