Poetry Quote by Siegfried Sassoon Download Open image ““Winged lovely moments, can I call you home?”” — Siegfried Sassoon ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 3.5 out of 5 (9 ratings) Copy quoteShare Poetry Time
“Don't you ever fly away again, Angel. I swear I'll have your wings clipped.” — Erin Noelle Copy Share Image
“I would find you down the line with broken wings, pick you up, and swear that you would taste the sky again.” — pleasefindthis Copy Share Image
“Do you truly feel that she is worth your wings?” He smiled. “What good are my wings, friend, when I can hold the world… — Elizabeth Morgan Copy Share Image
“Oh, my love will fly to you Each night on angels' wings Godspeed, sweet dreams” — Radney Foster Copy Share Image
“As we look around us At our mortal side and sigh Remember a place called Wingsong Then, Lift your Wings and Fly” — Stephen Cosgrove Copy Share Image
“When I am brave enough to say goodbye I'll use the wings you gave me and away I'll fly” — Celia Mcmahon Copy Share Image
I believe that the purpose for which I and my fellow soldiers entered upon this war should have been so clearly stated as to… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
Who's this—alone with stone and sky? It's only my old dog and I— It's only him; it's only me; Alone with stone and grass… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
And the wind upon its way whispered the boughs of May, And touched the nodding peony flowers to bid them waken. — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
“Suicide in the trenches: I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
The visionless officialized fatuityThat once kept Europe safe for Perpetuity. — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
“I am banished from the patient men who fight. They smote my heart to pity, built my pride. Shoulder to aching shoulder, side by… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
December stillness, teach me through your trees That loom along the west, one with the land, The veiled evangel of your mysteries. While nightfall,… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
I am not protesting against the conduct of the war, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting men are being… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
“Dim, gradual thinning of the shapeless gloom Shudders to drizzling daybreak that reveals Disconsolate men who stamp their sodden boots And turn dulled, sunken… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
“In 1917 I was only beginning to learn that life, for the majority of the population, is an unlovely struggle against unfair odds, culminating… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
The name Phenomenal Woman was inspired by Maya Angelo, who wrote 'Phenomenal Woman', a favorite poem of mine. — Meena Harris Copy Share Image
A poet is wounded into speech, and he examines these wounds, meticulously, to discover how to heal them. The bad poet harangues at the… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
The poetry from the eighteenth century was prose; the prose from the seventeenth century was poetry. — David Hare Copy Share Image
“It took me years to learn to sit at my desk for more than two minutes at a time, to put up with the… — Erica Jong Copy Share Image
The word 'mundane' has come to mean 'boring' and 'dull', and it really shouldn't - it should mean the opposite. Because it comes from… — Richard Dawkins Copy Share Image
“In the streets, the children scream, the lovers cried, and the poets dreamed,” he crooned, putting down the metal grill tongs to take my… — Alexandria Clarke Copy Share Image
Some minds corrode and grow inactive under the loss of personal liberty; others grow morbid and irritable; but it is the nature of the… — Washington Irving Copy Share Image
You don’t read or overhear the voice in the poem, you are the voice in the poem. — Helen Vendler Copy Share Image
All lyrical work must, as a whole, be perfectly intelligible, but in some particulars a little unintelligible. — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Copy Share Image
The world's history is a divine poem, of which the history of every nation is a canto, and every man a word. Its strains… — James A. Garfield Copy Share Image
