Quotes from Ezra Pound

Take thought. I have weathered the storm, I have beaten out my exile.

And if you ask how I regret that parting? It is like the flowers falling at spring's end, confused, whirled in a tangle. What is the use of talking! And there is no end of talking— There is no end of things in the heart.

You have to hammer yourself into an artist.

I believe in some parts of Nietzsche, I prefer to read him in sections; In my heart of hearts I suspect him of being the one modern christian; Take notice I never have read him except in English selections.

Francesca" You came in out of the night And there were flowers in your hands, Now you will come out of a confusion of people, Out of a turmoil of speech about you. I who have seen you amid the primal things Was angry when they spoke your name In ordinary places. I would that the cool waves might flow over my mind, And that the world should dry as a dead leaf, Or as a dandelion seed-pod and be swept away, So that I might find you again, Alone.

I AM homesick after mine own kind, Oh I know that there are folk about me, friendly faces, But I am homesick after mine own kind.

ALBA from "Langue d'Oc" When the nightingale to his mate Sings day-long and night late My love and I keep state In bower, In flower, 'Till the watchman on the tower Cry: "Up! Thou rascal, Rise, I see the white Light And the night Flies.

The immense and undeniable loss of freedoms, as they were in 1900, is undeniable. We have seen the acceleration in efficiency of the tyrannizing factors. It's enough to keep a man worried. Wars are made to make debt. I suppose there's a possible out in space satellites and other ways of making debt.

Left him delighted with the imaginary Audition of the phantasmal sea-surge

The public will buy a certain amount of poetry if you give them their striptease." -- Ezra Pound

When the mind swings by a grass-blade an ant's forefoot shall save you

And New York is the most beautiful city in the world? It is not far from it. No urban nights are like the night there. I have looked down across the city from high windows. It is then that the great buildings lose reality and take on their magical powers. They are immaterial; that is to say, one sees but the lighted windows. Squares after squares of flame, set and cut into the Aether. Here is our poetry, for we have pulled down the stars to our will.

I have weathered the storm, I have beaten out my exile.

The sky-like limpid eyes, The circular infant's face, The stiffness from spats to collar Never relaxing into grace; The heavy memories of Horeb, Sinai and the forty years, Showed only when the daylight fell Level across the face Of Brennbaum "The Impeccable".

Let the beginning of the next line catch the rise of the rhythm wave, unless you want a definite longish pause.

Come, my songs, let us speak of perfection— / We shall get ourselves rather disliked.

Make-strong old dreams lest this our world lose heart

Hate is not born in the trenches nor among 2nd. lieutenants.

yr/ humanity counterfeit yr/ liberty cankered with simulation

that the body of light come forth from the body of fire And that your eyes come to the surface from the deep wherein they were sunken, Reina -- for 300 years, and now sunken That your eyes come forth from their caves

A slave is one who waits for someone else to free him.

I am an eternal spirit and the things I make are but ephemera, yet I endure: Yea, and the little earth crumbles beneath our feet and we endure.

I have detested you long enough. I come to you now as a grown child

2 young ladies to sing us the new liberty song readiness to be shot / versus / taxes