35 Ezra Pound Quotes You Will Love
There is no reason why the same man should like the same books at eighteen and at forty-eight.
Man reading should be man intensely alive. The book should be a ball of light in one’s hand.
Literature is news that stays news.
Speak against unconscious oppression,
Speak against the tyranny of the unimaginative,
Speak against bonds.
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The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet black bough.
What thou lovest well remains,
the rest is dross
What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage
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And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass
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No teacher has ever failed from ignorance. That is empiric professional knowledge. Teachers fail because they cannot `handle the class.’ Real education must ultimately be limited to men how INSIST on knowing, the rest is mere sheep-herding.
Rhythm must have meaning.
Glance is the enemy of vision.
Forever and forever and forever.
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small talk comes from small bones
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours.
The temple is holy because it is not for sale.
This is no book. Whoever touches this touches a man.
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Don’t be blinded by the theorists and a lying press.
A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him.
With one day’s reading a man may have the key in his hands.
I would hold the rosy, slender fingers of the dawn for you.
A real building is one on which the eye can light and stay lit.
When words cease to cling close to things, kingdoms fall, empires wane and diminish.
No man understands a deep book until he has seen and lived at least part of its contents.
Nothing written for pay is worth printing. Only what has been written against the market.
If a man isn’t willing to take some risk for his opinions, either his opinions are no good or he’s no good
It is difficult to write a paradiso when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse.
The artist is always beginning. Any work of art which is not a beginning, an invention, a discovery is of little worth.
The only thing one can give an artist is leisure in which to work. To give an artist leisure is actually to take part in his creation.
The serious artist must be as open as nature. Nature does not give all of herself in a paragraph. She is rugged and not set apart into discreet categories
The sum of human wisdom is not contained in any one language, and no single language is capable of expressing all forms and degrees of human comprehension.
Anyone who is too lazy to master the comparatively small glossary necessary to understand Chaucer deserves to be shut out from the reading of good books forever.
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 mean the art that is most precise.
Good writers are those who keep the language efficient. That is to say, keep it accurate, keep it clear. It doesn’t matter whether the good writer wants to be useful, or whether the good writer wants to be harm.
And the good writer chooses his words for their ‘meaning’, but that meaning is not a a set, cut-off thing like the move of knight or pawn on a chess-board. It comes up with roots, with associations, with how and where the word is familiarly used, or where it has been used brilliantly or memorably.
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.
En robe de parade.
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.
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