Conrad Aiken quotes

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Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Time in the heart and sequence in the brain--
...
- MORE Time in the heart and sequence in the brain--

Such as destroyed Rimbaud and fooled Verlaine.
And let us then take godhead by the neck--
And strangle it, and with it, rhetoric.
Rimbaud and Verlaine, precious pair of poets,
Genius in both (but what is genius?) playing...
- MORE Rimbaud and Verlaine, precious pair of poets,
Genius in both (but what is genius?) playing
Chess on a marble table at an inn
'Rimbaud, there is one thing to do:
We must take rhetoric, and wring its neck! . . .'
'Rimbaud, there is one thing to do:
We must take rhetoric, and wring its neck! . . .'
This is the shape of the tree,
And the flower and the leaf, and the three pale beautiful pilgrims:...
- MORE This is the shape of the tree,
And the flower and the leaf, and the three pale beautiful pilgrims:
This is what you are to me.
It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,...
- MORE It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
in the morning
Should I not pause in the light to remember God?...
- MORE in the morning
Should I not pause in the light to remember God?
Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable,
He is immense and lonely as a cloud.
I ascend from darkness
And depart on the winds of space for I know not where;...
- MORE I ascend from darkness
And depart on the winds of space for I know not where;
My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket,
And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair.
. . . Look! this flesh how it crumbles to dust and is blown!
These bones, how they grind in the granite of frost and are noth...
- MORE . . . Look! this flesh how it crumbles to dust and is blown!
These bones, how they grind in the granite of frost and are nothing!
This skull, how it yawns for a flicker of time in the darkness,
Yet laughs not and sees not!
How shall we praise the magnificence of the dead,
The great man humbled, the haughty brought to dust?
How shall we praise the magnificence of the dead,
The great man humbled, the haughty brought to dust?
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