Quotes by Ezra Pound
Either move or be moved.
'Tis the white stag, Fame, we're a-hunting, bid the world's hounds come to horn!
Music begins to atrophy when it departs too far from the dance... poetry begins to atrophy when it gets too far from music.
A man of genius has a right to any mode of expression.
Poetry withers and dries out when it leaves music, or at least imagined music, too far behind it. Poets who are not interested in music are, or become, bad poets.
The real meditation is... the meditation on one's identity. Ah, voil? une chose!! You try it. You try finding out why you're you and not somebody else. And who in the blazes are you anyhow? Ah, voil? une chose!
Duccio came not by usura nor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin' not by usura...
The only chance for victory over the brainwash is the right of every man to have his ideas judged one at a time. You never get clarity as long as you have these packaged words, as long as a word is used by twenty-five people in twenty-five different ways. That seems to me to be the first fight, if there is going to be any intellect left.
The Image is more than an idea. It is a vortex or cluster of fused ideas and is endowed with energy.
Technique is the test of sincerity. If a thing isn't worth getting the technique to say, it is of inferior value.
It ought to be illegal for an artist to marry.... If the artist must marry let him find someone more interested in art, or his art, or the art...
Good art however "immoral" is wholly a thing of virtue. ... Good art can NOT be immoral. By good art I mean art that bears true witness, I mea...
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth between the young bride and her bridegroom...
All my life I believed I knew something. But then one strange day came when I realized that I knew nothing; yes, I knew nothing. And so words became void of meaning. I have arrived too late at ultimate uncertainty.
Man is an over-complicated organism. If he is doomed to extinction he will die out for want of simplicity.
I ask a wreathwhich will not crush my head. And there is no hurry about it;...
Artists broken against her, Astray, lost in the villages,...
No good poetry is ever written in a manner twenty years old, for to write in such a manner shows conclusively that the writer thinks from books, convention and clich?, not from real life.
no picture is made to endure nor to live with but it is made to sell and sell quickly...
When our two dusts with Waller's shall be laid, Siftings on siftings in oblivion,...
May God damn for ever all who cry \'Peace!'
I have always thought the suicide should bump off at least one swine before taking off for parts unknown.
The jargon of these sculptors is beyond me. I do not know precisely why I admire a green granite female, apparently pregnant monster with one eye going around a square corner.
Great literature is simply language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree.
AS A MIND, who the hell else is there left for me to take an interest IN??
