What did W. H. Auden mean by: We till shadowed days are done, We must weep and sing Duty’s conscious wrong, The Devil in the clock W. H. Auden Poet · England Copy
+ We were put on this Earth to help others. Why others were put here is beyond me. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, W. H. Auden, Altruism, Confusion, Purpose, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
+ We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for I don’t know. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, W. H. Auden, Altruism, Humor, Purpose, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
+ Shall memory restore The steps and the shore, The face and the meeting place. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, W. H. Auden, Loss, Memory, Nostalgia, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
+ I know nothing, except what everyone knows – if there when Grace dances, I should dance. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, W. H. Auden, Humility, Participation, Unity, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
+ Few people take an interest in Iceland, but in those few the interest is passionate. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, W. H. Auden, Exclusivity, Obscurity, Passion, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
+ O let not Time deceive you, You cannot conquer Time. Author, July 1, 2023January 2, 2025, W. H. Auden, Deception, Inevitability, Resistance, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
+ Thousands have lived without love, not one without water. Author, August 3, 2023January 2, 2025, W. H. Auden, Love, Necessity, Survival, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
+ All pity is self-pity. Author, June 6, 2023January 2, 2025, W. H. Auden, Empathy, Perspective, Self-pity, 0 W. H. Auden Poet · England
Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. Read explanation Jean Cocteau Artist · France
It takes 25 years to learn to draw, one hour to learn to paint. Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres Painter · France
It is better to expose ourselves to ingratitude than to neglect our duty to the distressed. Read explanation Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Days, months, years fly away, and irrecoverably sink in the abyss of time. Read explanation Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
