Conrad Aiken quotes - page 3

Conrad Aiken was an American poet, novelist, and critic, recognized for his explorations of consciousness and psychological themes in literature. His poetry often blended musicality with deep philosophical questions about existence. He received numerous prestigious awards and was appointed Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress. Here are 72 of his quotes:

Let us retrace our steps: I have deceived you: Nothing is here I could not frankly tell you: No hint of guilt, or faithlessness, or threat. Dreams-they are madness. Staring eyes-illusion. Let us return, hear music, and forget...

Conrad Aiken

More towers must yet be built-more towers destroyed- Great rocks hoisted in air; And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlight With gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes... And so he did not mention his dream of falling But drank his coffee in silence, and heard in his ears That horrible whistle of wind, and felt his breath Sucked out of him, and saw the tower flash by And the small tree swell beneath him... He patted his boy on the head, and kissed his wife, Looked quickly around the room, to remember it,- And so went out... For once, he forgot his pail.

Conrad Aiken

A chorus of elfin voices blowing about me Weaves to a babel of sound. Each cries a secret. I run among them, reach out vain hands, and drown.

Conrad Aiken

And the shadows of tree-trunks and shadows of leaves Interlace with low voices and footsteps and sunlight To divide us forever.

Conrad Aiken

What was this dream we had, a dream of music, Music that rose from the opening earth like magic And shook its beauty upon us and died away? The long cold streets extend once more before us. The red sun drops, the walls grow grey.

Conrad Aiken

Time is a dream, he thinks, a destroying dream; It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas; It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls. Where was the woman he loved? Where was his youth? Where was the dream that burned his brain like fire? Even a dream grows grey at last and falls.

Conrad Aiken

Something had changed-but it was not the street- The street was just the same-it was himself.

Conrad Aiken

From some, the light was scarcely more than a gloom: From some, a dazzling desire.

Conrad Aiken

Walk with me world, upon my right hand walk, speak to me Babel, that I may strive to assemble of all these syllables a single word before the purpose of speech is gone.

Conrad Aiken

We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Conrad Aiken

I am the one who stood beside you and smiled, Thinking your face so strangely young . . . ' 'I am the one who loved you but did not dare.

Conrad Aiken

I am the one you saw to-day, who fell Senseless before you, hearing a certain bell: A bell that broke great memories in my brain.' 'I am the one who passed unnoticed before you, Invisible, in a cloud of secret pain.

Conrad Aiken

Through soundless labyrinths of dream you pass, Through many doors to the one door of all. Soon as it's opened we shall hear a music: Or see a skeleton fall . . .

Conrad Aiken

We developed a shorthand language of our own which we fell into for the rest of our lives whenever we met, no holds barred - all a matter of past reference, a common language, but basically affection, along with humor, and appreciation of each other's minds, and of Krazy Kat . Faced with England, and the New World, and Freud and all, we always managed to relax, and go back to the kidding, and bad punning, and drinking, to the end. It really was marvelous.

Conrad Aiken

I do believe in this evolution of consciousness as the only thing which we can embark on, or in fact, willy-nilly, are embarked on; and along with that will go the spiritual discoveries and, I feel, the inexhaustible wonder that one feels, that opens more and more the more you know.

Conrad Aiken

Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread.

Conrad Aiken

I think Ushant describes it pretty well, with that epigraph from Tom Brown's School Days: "I'm the poet of White Horse Vale, sir, with Liberal notions under my cap!” For some reason those lines stuck in my head, and I've never forgotten them. This image became something I had to be.

Conrad Aiken

One white rose... or is it pink, to-day?

Conrad Aiken

I think Ushant describes it pretty well, with that epigraph from Tom Brown's School Days: "I'm the poet of White Horse Vale, sir, with Liberal notions under my cap!” For some reason those lines stuck in my head, and I've never forgotten them. This image became something I had to be. ... I compelled myself all through to write an exercise in verse, in a different form, every day of the year. I turned out my page every day, of some sort - I mean I didn't give a damn about the meaning, I just wanted to master the form - all the way from free verse, Walt Whitman, to the most elaborate of villanelles and ballad forms. Very good training. I've always told everybody who has ever come to me that I thought that was the first thing to do. And to study all the vowel effects and all the consonant effects and the variation in vowel sounds.

Conrad Aiken