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Ezra Pound

Ezra Pound Quotes

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Famous Ezra Pound Quotes

“The individual cannot think and communicate his thought, the governor and legislator cannot act effectively or frame his laws without words, and the solidity and validity of these words is in the care of the damned and despised litterati...when their very medium, the very essence of their work, the application of word to thing goes rotten, i.e. becomes slushy and inexact, or excessive or bloated, the whole machinery of social and of individual thought and order goes to pot.”

ThinkingWholeCareLawOrderIndividualSocialEssenceCommunicateMediumsPotApplicationGovernorsMachineryRottenDespisedValidityLegislatorsSolidity
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“The Garden En robe de parade. - Samain Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-meal of a sort of emotional anaemia. And round about there is a rabble Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. They shall inherit the earth. In her is the end of breeding. Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. She would like some one to speak to her, And is almost afraid that I will commit that indiscretion.”

EndsEarthSpeakWalksPoorPathPiecesDyingEmotionalWallGardenRoundsCommitMealsBoredomInfantExquisiteSilkBreedingParadesRobesFilthySturdyAnaemia
Author:Ezra Pound
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“Poetry is a sort of inspired mathematics, which gives us equations, not for abstract figures, triangles, squares, and the like, but for the human emotions. If one has a mind which inclines to magic rather than science, one will prefer to speak of these equations as spells or incantations; it sounds more arcane, mysterious, recondite.”

IfsGivingMindHumansSpeakSoundEmotionMagicFiguresMathematicsInspiredMysteriousAbstractPoetry IsSpellsSquaresEquationsHuman EmotionsInclineTrianglesArcane
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“Song in the Manner of Housman" O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already. The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently. Some lads get hung, and some get shot. Woeful is this human lot. Woe! woe, etcetera.... London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter. Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace. Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera.”

PeopleIfsHumansLittlesSongDiesBornSpaceGraceTreeBirdShotsLondonHungWoeLadMorbidEtcetera
Author:Ezra Pound
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