It is difficult to write a paradiso when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse.
Ezra PoundRead
Haie! Haie! These were the swift to harry; These the keen-scented; These were the souls of blood. Slow on the leash, pallid the leash-men!
Interpretation
The quote contrasts the nimble, instinctual nature of certain souls with the slow, restrained nature of their keepers.
In this quote, Ezra Pound draws a vivid contrast between the free, spirited beings represented by 'Haie! Haie!' and the restrained, dull nature of those who hold them back. It suggests a tension between vitality and stagnation, highlighting how some individuals have the potential for greatness and swiftness, while others are bound by their cautiousness or inaction, leading to a sense of stagnation and dissatisfaction.
In practice
During a motivational speech about overcoming fear and embracing one's true potential.
It is difficult to write a paradiso when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse.
The ant's a centaur in his dragon world. Pull down thy vanity, it is not man Made courage, or made order, or made grace, Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down. Learn of the green world what can be thy place In scaled invention or true artistry, Pull down thy vanity, Paquin pull down! The green casque has outdone your elegance.
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours Forever and forever and forever.
Literature does not exist in a vacuum. Writers as such have a definite social function exactly proportional to their ability as writers. This is their main use.
In our time, the curse is monetary illiteracy, just as inability to read plain print was the curse of earlier centuries.
The modern artist must live by craft and violence. His gods are violent gods. Those artists, so called, whose work does not show this strife, are uninteresting.
Man must be arched and buttressed from within, else the temple wavers to the dust.
No period of history has ever been great or ever can be that does not act on some sort of high, idealistic motives, and idealism in our time has been shoved aside, and we are paying the penalty for it.
Strange how blind people are! They are horrified by the torture chambers of the Middle Ages, but their arsenals fill them with pride!
Let us follow the truth whither so ever it leads.
There must be something beyond slaughter and barbarism to support the existence of mankind and we must all help search for it.
So be my passing! My task accomplished and the long day done, My wages taken, and in my heart Some late lark singing, Let me be gathered in the quiet west, The sundown splendid and serene, Death.
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