My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My back's been stiff for hours, damned hours. Death never gives his squad a Stand-at-ease.

Quote by Wilfred Owen

Topics: Death Quotes, Poetry Quotes, World War I Quotes

Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.

Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.

A few, a few, too few for drums and yells, May creep back, silent, to...

A few, a few, too few for drums and yells, May creep back, silent, to...

Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do.

Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do.

Was it for this the clay grew tall?

Was it for this the clay grew tall?

Do you know what would hold me together on a battlefield? The sense that I...

Do you know what would hold me together on a battlefield? The sense that I...

Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul, all tears...

Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul, all tears...

Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.

Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.

I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical...

I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical...

Now rather thank I God there is no risk Of gravers scoring it with florid...

Now rather thank I God there is no risk Of gravers scoring it with florid...

After all my years of playing soldiers, and then of reading History, I have almost...

After all my years of playing soldiers, and then of reading History, I have almost...

I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for,...

I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for,...

The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet,...

The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet,...

Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.

Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.

My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.

My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.

Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.

Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.

Move him into the sun Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of...

Move him into the sun Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of...

My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My...

My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My...

All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.

All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.

Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the...

Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the...

A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring...

A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring...