The rustling of the silk is discontinued, Dust drifts over the courtyard, There is not sound of footfall, and the leaves Scurry into heaps and lie still, And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them: A wet leaf… — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
“I once saw a small child go to an electric light switch as say, "Mamma, can I open the light?" She was using the… — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
“Till now they send him dreams and no more deed; So doth he flame again with might for action, Forgetful of the council of… — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
A great age of literature is perhaps always a great age of translations. — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
It would be about as easy for an American to become a Chinaman or a Hindoo as for him to acquire an Englishness or… — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
Anyone who is too lazy to master the comparatively small glossary necessary to understand Chaucer deserves to be shut out from the reading of… — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
Mass ought to be in Latin, unless you could do it in Greek or Chinese. In fact, any abracadabra that no bloody member of… — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
The artist is always beginning. Any work of art which is not a beginning, an invention, a discovery is of little worth. — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
“Any general statement is like a cheque drawn on a bank. Its value depends on what is there to meet it.” — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
The author's conviction on this day of New Year is that music begins to atrophy when it departs too far from the dance; that… — Ezra Pound Copy Share Image
