"The hiss was now becoming a roar - the whole world was a vast moving screen of snow - but even now it said peace, it said remoteness, it said cold, it said sleep."
About Conrad Aiken
Conrad Aiken — Life and Legacy
Conrad Aiken was a prominent American poet and novelist whose literary contributions delve deeply into the complexities of love and human experience. His notable work, 'The Dark Kingdom,' exemplifies his exploration of emotional depth, often portraying love as a source of both joy and suffering. Aiken's writing reflects a keen awareness of the inner conflicts that accompany human relationships, as seen in his poignant observation that 'the heart is a lonely hunter.' This quote encapsulates his perspective on the isolation inherent in longing, suggesting that even in love, individuals can feel profoundly alone. Aiken's core philosophy centers on the idea that love is not merely a source of happiness but a complex interplay of emotions that often leads to conflict and introspection. His exploration of these themes challenges the romanticized notions of love, instead presenting it as a multifaceted experience filled with contradictions. Through his evocative language and imagery, Aiken invites readers to confront the darker aspects of love, revealing the emotional turmoil that often accompanies deep connections. Today, Aiken's quotes resonate with readers seeking to understand the intricacies of their own emotional lives. His ability to articulate the tension between love and loneliness continues to inspire reflection on the nature of human relationships, making his work relevant in contemporary discussions about love and emotional complexity.
Quote collection
Conrad Aiken quotes (page 1 of 3)
57 quotes — follow a thought to its full quote page.
"All lovely things will have an ending, all lovely things will fade and die; and youth, that's now so bravely spending, Will beg a penny by and by."
"[At a musical concert:] . . . the music's pure algebra of enchantment."
"The wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams, the eternal asker of answers, stands in the street, and lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain."
"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."
"MUSIC I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread. Now that I am without you, all is desolate, All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver,And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved: And yet your touch upon them will not pass. For it was in my heart you moved among them,And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes.And in my heart they will remember always: They knew you once, O beautiful and wise!"
"I think that what's happening today, with all the young poets rushing from one college to another, lecturing at the drop of a hat and so on, is not too good; I think it might have a bad effect on a great many of the young poets. They - to quote Mark Twain - "swap juices" a little too much, so that they are in danger of losing their own identity and don't give themselves time enough in which to work out what's really of importance to them - they're too busy."
"Forward into the untrodden! Courage, old man, and hold on to your umbrella!"
"Schoolchildren all over America are told to write to authors-often to authors whom they have never before heard of, whose work they are to young to understand in the least, and often in letters which are almost illiterate. If children are to be taught to respect the work of American poets I think some better way might be found to do so- some way which would not make such an inconsiderate demand on the author's time."
"My heart has become as hard as a city street, the horses trample upon it, it sings like iron, all day long and all night long they beat, they ring like the hooves of time."
"Music I heard with you was more than music, and bread I broke with you was more than bread. Now that I am without you, all is desolate; all that was once so beautiful is dead."
"It is precisely the sort of thing I am always trying to do in my writing -- to present my unhappy reader with a wide-ranged chaos -- of actions and reactions, thoughts, memories and feelings -- in the vain hope that at the end he will see that the whole thing represents only one moment, one feeling, one person. A raging, trumpeting jungle of associations, and then I announce at the end of it, with a gesture of despair, "This is I!"
"O sweet clean earth, from whom the green blade cometh! When we are dead, my best beloved and I, close well above us, that we may rest forever, sending up grass and blossoms to the sky."
"I'm afraid I wasn't much of a student, but my casual reading was enormous."
"Youth yearns to youth, full blood loves full blood only."
"Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam ... and after a while they will fall to dust and rain; or else we will tear them down with impatient hands; and hew rock out of the earth, and build them again."
"I've tried it long ago, with hashish and peyote. Fascinating, yes, but no good, no. This, as we find in alcohol, is an escape from awareness, a cheat, a momentary substitution, and in the end a destruction of it."
"No god save self, that is the way to live."
"It's time to make love, douse the glim; The fireflies twinkle and dim; The stars lean together Like birds of a feather, And the loin lies down with the limb."
"Separate we come, and separate we go, And this be it known, is all that we know."