"Let the florid music praise, The flute and the trumpet, Beauty’s conquest of your face: In that land of flesh and bone, Where from citadels on high Her imperial standards fly, Let the hot sun Shine on, shine on."

"Out on the lawn I lie in bed, Vega conspicuous overhead."

"And make us as Newton was, who in his garden watching The apple falling towards England, became aware Between himself and her of an eternal tie."

"Harrow the house of the dead; look shining at New styles of architecture, a change of heart."

"Sir, no man's enemy, forgiving all But will his negative inversion, be prodigal: Send to us power and light, a sovereign touch Curing the intolerable neural itch, The exhaustion of weaning, the liar's quinsy, And the distortions of ingrown virginity."

"To ask the hard question is simple, The simple act of the confused will."

"If we really want to live, we’d better start at once to try; If we don’t it doesn’t matter, we’d better start to die."

"Put the car away; when life fails What's the good of going to Wales? Here am I, here are you: But what does it mean? What are we going to do?"

"Let us honor if we can The vertical man Though we value none But the horizontal one."

"Only in rites can we renounce our oddities and be truly entired."

"Though the great artists of the past could not change the course of history, it is only through their work that we are able to break bread with the dead, and without communion with the dead a fully human life is impossible."

"Aphorisms are essentially an aristocratic genre of writing."

"Left to itself the masculine imagination has very little appreciation for the here and now; it prefers to dwell on what is absent, on what has been or may be. If men are more punctual than women, it is because they know that, without the external discipline of clock time, they would never get anything done."

"The masculine imagination lives in a state of perpetual revolt against the limitations of human life. In theological terms, one might say that all men, left to themselves, become gnostics. They may swagger like peacocks, but in their heart of hearts they all think sex an indignity and wish they could beget themselves on themselves. Hence the aggressive hostility toward women so manifest in most club-car stories."

"A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language."

"Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions To all musicians, appear and inspire: Translated Daughter, come down and startle Composing mortals with immortal fire."

"In a garden shady this holy lady With reverent cadence and subtle psalm, Like a black swan as death came on Poured forth her song in perfect calm: And by ocean’s margin this innocent virgin Constructed an organ to enlarge her prayer, And notes tremendous from her great engine Thundered out on the Roman air.Blonde Aphrodite rose up excited, Moved to delight by the melody, White as an orchid she rode quite naked In an oyster shell on top of the sea."

"Every day America's destroyed and re-created, America is what you do, America is I and you, America is what you choose to make it."

"Acts of injustice done Between the setting and the rising sun In history lie like bones, each one."

"Letters of thanks, letters from banks, Letters of joy from girl and boy, Receipted bills and invitations To inspect new stock or to visit relations, And applications for situations, And timid lovers' declarations, And gossip, gossip from all the nations."

"This is the Night Mail crossing the Border, Bringing the cheque and the postal order,Letters for the rich, letters for the poor, The shop at the corner, the girl next door.Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb: The gradient's against her, but she’s on time.Past cotton-grass and moorland border, Shovelling white steam over her shoulder."

"At the far end of the enormous room An orchestra is playing to the rich."

"I see it often since you’ve been away: The island, the veranda, and the fruit; The tiny steamer breaking from the bay; The literary mornings with its hoot; Our ugly comic servant; and then you, Lovely and willing every afternoon."

"Happy the hare at morning, for she cannot read The Hunter's waking thoughts."

"The sky is darkening like a stain, Something is going to fall like rain And it won't be flowers."

"I'm beginning to lose patience With my personal relations: They are not deep, And they are not cheap."

"Private faces in public places Are wiser and nicer Than public faces in private places."

"That girls are raped, that two boys knife a third, Were axioms to him, who'd never heard Of any world where promises were kept Or one could weep because another wept."

"The mass and majesty of this world, all That carries weight and always weighs the same Lay in the hands of others; they were small And could not hope for help and no help came: What their foes like to do was done, their shame Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride And died as men before their bodies died."

"Out of the air a voice without a face Proved by statistics that some cause was just In tones as dry and level as the place."

"A million eyes, a million boots in line, Without expression, waiting for a sign."

"She looked over his shoulder For vines and olive trees, Marble well-governed cities And ships upon untamed seas, But there on the shining metal His hands had put instead An artificial wilderness And a sky like lead."

"... This land is not the sweet home that it looks, Nor its peace the historical calm of a site Where something was settled once and for all: A backward And dilapidated province, connected To the big busy world by a tunnel, with a certain Seedy appeal."

"There is no love; There are only the various envies, all of them sad."

"In a national capital Mirabeau and his set Attacked mystery; the packed galleries roared And history marched to the drums of a clear idea, The aim of the Rational City, quick to admire, Quick to tire."

"Unendowed with wealth or pity, Little birds with scarlet legs Sitting on their speckled eggs, Eye each flu-infected city.Altogether elsewhere, vast Herds of reindeer move across Miles and miles of golden moss, Silently and very fast."

"We would rather be ruined than changed We would rather die in our dread Than climb the cross of the moment And let our illusions die."

"Sob, heavy world, Sob as you spin Mantled in mist, remote from the happy."

"Let us then Consider rather the incessant Now of The traveler through time, his tired mind Biased towards bigness since his body must Exaggerate to exist, possessed by hope."

"Reason will be replaced by Revelation. Instead of Rational Law, objective truths perceptible to any who will undergo the necessary intellectual discipline, Knowledge will degenerate into a riot of subjective visions...Whole cosmogonies will be created out of some forgotten personal resentment, complete epics written in private languages, the daubs of schoolchildren ranked above the greatest masterpieces. Idealism will be replaced by Materialism. Life after death will be an eternal dinner party where all the guests are 20 years old...Justice will be replaced by Pity as the cardinal human virtue, and all fear of retribution will vanish...The New Aristocracy will consist exclusively of hermits, bums and permanent invalids. The Rough Diamond, the Consumptive Whore, the bandit who is good to his mother, the epileptic girl who has a way with animals will be the heroes and heroines of the New Age, when the general, the statesman, and the philosopher have become the butt of every farce and satire."

"My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely."

"At Dirty Dick's and Sloppy Joe's We drank our liquor straight, Some went upstairs with Margery, And some, alas, with Kate."

"To the man-in-the-street, who, I'm sorry to say, Is a keen observer of life, The word 'Intellectual' suggests straight away A man who's untrue to his wife."

"Base words are uttered only by the base And can for such at once be understood; But noble platitudes — ah, there's a case Where the most careful scrutiny is needed To tell a voice that's genuinely good From one that's base but merely has succeeded."

"Defenceless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair, Show an affirming flame."

"All I have is a voice To undo the folded lie, The romantic lie in the brain Of the sensual man-in-the-street And the lie of Authority Whose buildings grope the sky: There is no such thing as the State And no one exists alone; Hunger allows no choice To the citizen or the police; We must love one another or die."

"For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have, Not universal love But to be loved alone."

"Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse."

"I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return."

"I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night."