quotes from classic

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Oh, it is I, Incredibly skinny, stooped, and neat as pie, Ignorant as dirt, erotic as an ape, Dreamy as puberty - with dirty hair!

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But this invites the occult mind, Cancels our physics with a sneer, And spatters all we knew of denouement,Across the expedient and wicked stones.

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My soul is now her day, my day her night, So I lie down, and so I rise.

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Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique.

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In the tight belly of the dead, Burrow with hungry head, And inlay maggots like a jewel.

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I see slip to the curb the long machines, Out of whose warm and windowed rooms pirouette, Shellacked with silk and light, The hard legs of our women.

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We ask for no statistics of the killed, For nothing political impinges on This single casualty, or all those gone, Missing or healing, sinking or dispersed, Hundreds of thousands counted, millions lost.

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However others calculate the cost, To us the final aggregate is one, One with a name, one transferred to the blest; And though another stoops and takes the gun, We cannot add the second to the first.

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There is nothing so subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. Cervantes Every war has its own excuse. That's why they're all surrounded with ideals. That's why they're all crusades.

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To girls and wives always alive and fated; To men and scholars always dead like Greek And always mistranslated.

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The roof of England fell, Great Paris tolled her bell, And China staunched her milk and wept for bread.

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We are deranged, walking among the cops, Who sweep glass and are large and composed.

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To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other.

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Sunday at noon through hyaline thin air, Sees down the street, And in the camera of my eye depicts, Row-houses and row-lives: Glass after glass, door after door the same.

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Haul up the flag, you mourners, Not half-mast but all the way; The funeral is done and disbanded; The devil's had the final say.

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Sentio ergo sum: he feels his way And words themselves stand up for him like Braille, And punch and perforate his parchment ear.

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Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die.

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The doctor punched my vein,The captain called me Cain, Upon my belly sat the sow of fear.

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O hideous little bat, the size of snot, With polyhedral eye and shabby clothes.

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He shall eat flowers, Chew honey and spit out gall. They shall all smile, and love and pity him. His death shall be by drowning.

more quotes from Karl Shapiro