Allen Tate Quotes

And what's the bother about sin? It doesn't matter so Whether a woman's unchaste. Talk to Trimalchio.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "To a Romantic Novelist."
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When it is all over and the blood Runs out, do not bury this man By the far river (where never stood His fathers) flowing to the West, But take him East where life began.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Emblems."
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Style a tablet at every noon time, Lady, With bold images of a timid boy!
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Quality of Mercy."
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Now that you've written it In novels and a few verses, Will the pimps and harlots say That Destiny's a wit?
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "To a Romantic Novelist."
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Neither the feeling nor the style of Miss Dickinson belongs to the seventeenth century; yet between her and Donne there are remarkable ties. Their religious ideas, their abstractions, are momently toppling from the rational plane to the level of perception. The ideas, in fact, are no longer the impersonal religious symbols created anew in the heat of emotion, that we find in poets like Herbert and Vaughan. They have become, for Donne, the terms of personality; they are mingled with the miscellany of sensation. In Miss Dickinson, as in Donne, we may detect a singularly morbid concern, not for religious truth, but for personal revelation.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Emily Dickinson," Essays of Four Decades, Swallow Press (1968).
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Re-string the mirroring plangence of your hair....
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Quality of Mercy."
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the young men who watch us from the curbs: They hold the glaze of wonder in their stare Our crooked backs, hands fetid as old herbs, The tallow eyes, wax face, the foreign hair!
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "To the Lacedemonians."
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The graceless madness of her lips, Who was the powder-puff of life, Cannot rouge those cheeks nor warm His cold corpuscles back to strife.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Euthanasia."
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And then a tall fat man with stringy hair And a manner that was innocent of sin, His galluses greasy, his eyes coldly gray, Appeared, and with a gravely learned air Spoke from the deep coherence of hell....
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Records."
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When the peace is a trade route, figures For the budget, reduction of population, Life grown sullen and immense Lusts after immunity to pain.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "To the Lacedemonians."
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