Louis Macneice Quotes

blind wantons like the gulls who scream And rip the edge off any ideal or dream.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Among These Turf-Stacks (l. 17-18). . . Oxford Book of Modern Verse, The, 1892-1935. William Butler Yeats, ed. (1936) Oxford University Press.
(25) (11)
a fortress against ideas and against the Shuddering insidious shock of the theory-vendors The little sardine men crammed in a monster toy Who tilt their aggregate beast against our crumbling Troy.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Among These Turf-Stacks (l. 9-12). . . Oxford Book of Modern Verse, The, 1892-1935. William Butler Yeats, ed. (1936) Oxford University Press.
(19) (9)
Why do we like being Irish? Partly because It gives us a hold on the sentimental English As members of a world that never was, Baptized with fairy water;
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Autumn Journal (XVI, l. 61-64). . . Contemporary Irish Poetry; an Anthology. Anthony Bradley, ed. (New and rev. ed., 1988) University of California Press.
(24) (12)
And I envy the intransigence of my own Countrymen who shoot to kill and never See the victim's face become their own Or find his motive sabotage their motives.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Autumn Journal (XVI, l. 5-8). . . Contemporary Irish Poetry; an Anthology. Anthony Bradley, ed. (New and rev. ed., 1988) University of California Press.
(19) (10)
she gives her children neither sense nor money Who slouch arouond the world with a gesture and a brogue And a faggot of useless memories.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Autumn Journal (XVI, l. 124-126). . . Contemporary Irish Poetry; an Anthology. Anthony Bradley, ed. (New and rev. ed., 1988) University of California Press.
(4) (7)
A city built upon mud; A culture built upon profit; Free speech nipped in the bud, The minority always guilty. Why should I want to go back To you, Ireland, my Ireland?
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Autumn Journal (XVI, l. 101-106). . . Contemporary Irish Poetry; an Anthology. Anthony Bradley, ed. (New and rev. ed., 1988) University of California Press.
(9) (7)
Up the Rebels, To Hell with the Pope, And God Save—as you prefer—the King or Ireland. The land of scholars and saints: Scholars and saints my eye, the land of ambush, Purblind manifestoes, never-ending complaints,
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Autumn Journal (XVI, l. 31-35). . . Contemporary Irish Poetry; an Anthology. Anthony Bradley, ed. (New and rev. ed., 1988) University of California Press.
(11) (5)
It's no go the Government grants, it's no go the elections, Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), British poet. "Bagpipe Music," Earth Compels (1938).
(34) (11)
It's no go the merry-go-round, it's no go the rickshaw All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Bagpipe Music (l. 1-2). . . New Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1950. Helen Gardner, ed. (1972) Oxford University Press.
(5) (6)
It's no go the picture palace, it's no go the stadium, It's no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums. It's no go the Government grants, it's no go the elections, Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), Anglo-Irish poet. Bagpipe Music (l. 39-43). . . New Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1950. Helen Gardner, ed. (1972) Oxford University Press.
(9) (4)