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Quote by Stephen Spender

“What is precious is never to forget, The delight of the blood drawn from ancient springs, Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth; Never to deny its pleasure in the simple morning light, Nor its grave evening demand for love; Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother, With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.”

Quote by Stephen Spender

Author

Stephen Spender

Stephen Spender was a British poet known for his lyrical poetry and prose. His works often explore the relationship between the individual and society, as well as profound insights into history and culture. Born on February 28, 1909, he passed away on July 16, 1995. more

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“What the eye delights in, no longer dictates My greed to enjoy: boys, grass, the fenced-off deer. It leaves those figures that distantly play On the horizon's rim: they sign their peace, in games.”

Play Eye Games Enjoy Boys Figures Greed Delight Grass Horizon Deer Rims

Book:New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

Source: New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

“History has tongues Has angels has guns has saved has praised Today proclaims Achievements of her exiles long returned Now no more rootless, for whom her printed page Glazes their bruised waste years in one Balancing present sky.”

Years Long Today Sky Waste Achievement Pages Gun Angel Tongue Saved Exile Printed Bruised

Book:New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

Source: New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

“Whatever happens, I shall never be alone, I shall always have a fare, an affair, or a revolution.”

Happens Revolution Affair Whatever Happens

Author:Stephen Spender

“Under the olive trees, from the ground Grows this flower, which is a wound. It is easier to ignore Than the heroes' sunset fire Of death plunged in their willed desire Raging with flags on the world's shore.”

World Desire Grows Fire Tree Flower Hero Easier Rage Wounds Sunset Shore Flags Olives Olive Trees

Book:Selected Poems of Stephen Spender

Source: Selected Poems of Stephen Spender

“To break out of the chaos of my darkness Into a lucid day is all my will. My words like eyes in night, stare to reach A centre for their light: and my acts thrown To distant places by impatient violence Yet lock together to mould a path of stone Out of my darkness into a lucid day.”

Light Eye Together Night Break Darkness Path Violence Stones Chaos Staring Thrown Locks Centre Impatient Break Out Mould

Book:World Within World: The Autobiography of Stephen Spender

Source: World Within World: The Autobiography of Stephen Spender

“My words like eyes that flinch from light, refuse And shut upon obscurity; my acts Cast to their opposites by impatient violence Break up the sequent path; they fly On a circumference to avoid the centre.”

Light Eye Break Path Violence Opposites Casts Refuse Shut Up Centre Impatient Obscurity

Book:World Within World: The Autobiography of Stephen Spender

Source: World Within World: The Autobiography of Stephen Spender

“Involved in my own entrails and a crust Turning a pitted surface towards a space, I am a world that watches through a sky And is persuaded by mirrors To regard its being as an external shell, One of a universe of stars and faces.”

World Faces Universe Stars My Own Space Watches Sky Involved Mirrors Regard Surface Shells

Book:New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

Source: New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

“The seen and seeing softly mutually strike Their glass barrier that arrests the sight. But the world's being hides in the volcanoes And the foul history pressed into its core; And to myself my being is my childhood And passion and entrails and the roots of senses; I'm pressed into the inside of a mask At the back of love, the back of air, the back of light.”

World Light Passion Seeing Air Childhood Roots Sight Glasses Strikes Core Senses Mask Barriers Foul Volcanoes

Book:New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

Source: New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

“Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields, See how these names are fêted in the waving grass And by the streamers of the white cloud And whispers of the wind in the listening sky. The names of those who in their lives fought for life, Who wore at their hearts the fire's centre. Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun And left the vivid air signed with their honour.”

Heart Names Left Born White Sun Fire Air Sky Fields Wind Listening Highest Clouds Snow Grass Honour Centre Vivid White Clouds

Author:Stephen Spender

“Of course, the entire effort is to put myself Outside the ordinary range Of what are called statistics. A hundred are killed In the outer suburbs. Well, well, I carry on.”

Wells Courses Effort Ordinary Hundred Range Statistics Suburbs

Book:New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender

Source: New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender