11 ordspråk av Louis MacNeice
Louis MacNeice
Better authentic mammon than a bogus god.
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Crumbling between the fingers, under the feet, / Crumbling behind the eyes, / Their world gives way and dies / And something twangs and breaks at the end of the street.
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Crumbling between the fingers, under the feet, / Crumbling behind the eyes, / Their world gives way and dies / And something twangs and breaks at the end of the street.
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I am not yet born; O fill me with strength against those who would freeze my humanity.
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Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me, otherwise kill me.
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Our freedom as free lances
advances toward its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon my friend
We shall have no time for dances.
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So they were married-to be the more together- And found they were never again so much together, Divided by the morning tea, By the evening paper, By children and tradesmen's bills
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Some on commission, some for the love of learning, Some because they have nothing better to do Or because they hope these walls of books will deaden The drumming of the demon in their ears
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The sunlight in the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold
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Time was away and somewhere else, / There were two glasses and two chairs / And two people with one pulse.
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When our brother Fire was having his dog's day / Jumping the London streets with millions of tin cans / Clanking at his tail, we heard some shadow say / `Give the dog a bone'.
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