A Quote by Tom Stoppard

When Auden said his poetry didn't save one Jew from the gas chamber, he'd said it all. — © Tom Stoppard
When Auden said his poetry didn't save one Jew from the gas chamber, he'd said it all.
'Who's been repeating all that hard stuff to you?' 'I read it in a book,' said Alice. 'But I had some poetry repeated to me, much easier than that, by - Tweedledee, I think it was.' 'As to poetry, you know,' said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his great hands, 'I can repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes to that - ' 'Oh, it needn't come to that!' Alice hastily said, hoping to keep him from beginning.
The gas man came one day, and he said, 'What does your husband do?' so I told him, and he said, 'What's the use of that?' He had a point, but on the other hand, I firmly believed in Stephen and his brilliance. I encouraged him to popularise his science just because the gas man had been so insulting.
There are some good things and some fantastic ones in Auden's early attitude; if the reader calls it a muddle I shall acquiesce, with the remark that the later position might be considered a more rarefied muddle. But poets rather specialize in muddles and I have no doubt which of the muddles was better for Auden's poetry: one was fertile and usable, the other decidedly is not. Auden sometimes seems to be saying with Henry Clay, "I had rather be right than poetry"; but I am not sure, then, that he is either.
Oh, get out of the way, Percy,” said Fred. “Harry’s in a hurry.” “Yeah, he’s off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant,” said George, chortling.
Auden said poetry makes nothing happen. But I wonder if the opposite could be true. It could make something happen.
Your friend's poetry is terrible," he said. Clary blinked, caught momentarily off guard. "What?" "I said his poetry was terrible. It sounds like he ate a dictionary and started vomiting up words at random.
It's for upset stomachs,' Dylan said, trying to hide a smile. He pointed to the words in the box. 'It's to reduce gas in your digestive system, not to create more gas to make explosions.' Gazzy's face fell as Iggy said. 'Really? Gazzy take it! Take the whole box!' 'I second that emotion!' said Total.
I went into the gas station, said, Fill 'er up, Harry. The guy said, Regular? I said, No, put on a gorrila suit and dance like a fairy.
To draw an analogy: a man's suffering is similar to the behavior of a gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber. Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the "size" of human suffering is absolutely relative.
But still, here are the words Despereaux Tilling spoke to his father. He said, "I forgive you, Pa!" And he said those words because he sensed that it was the only way to save his heart, to stop it from breaking in two. Despereaux, reader, spoke those words to save himself.
I get no sense from his note at all,” said Will, bounding to his feet, “except that he can quote Tennyson’s lesser poetry. Sophie, how quickly can you have Tessa ready?” “Half an hour,” said Sophie, not looking up from the dress. “Meet me in the courtyard in half an hour, then,” said Will. “I’ll wake Cyril. And be prepared to swoon at my finery.
Poetry does so many different things, it's difficult to say anything definitive about its role, which of course varies from culture to culture. It can range from being stories of the tribe to the private lyric, to being as W.H. Auden said "the clear expression of mixed feelings" to nonsense verse.
You cannot save every fallen bird," said Woosley, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Even the handsome ones." "One will do," said Magnus, and, as Will was no longer within his sight, he let the front door fall shut.
You saved me," I said. Nathaniel put his hands on either side of my face. "I had to," he said. "So you could save me back.
I think it was W.H. Auden who said he was lucky that his first favorite poet was Thomas Hardy, who was a good but not a great poet, because if you are exposed to the greats too soon it can just squash you as a writer.
Very well! he said. You shall prove your worth by facing me in a joust! I'd never heard of an undead lich king challenging someone to a joust. Especially not in a subterranean burial chamber. All right, I said uncertainly. But won't we be needing horses for that? Not horses, he replied, stepping away from his throne. Birds.
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