The Oxford Book of Death"Reading for this anthology," writes D.J. Enright, "I was moved to the thought that on no theme have writers shown themselves more lively." A survivor of Belsen voiced the same sentiment when, reflecting on the concentration camps, he wrote, "When in death we are in the midst of life." By turns poignant, tragic, comic, and inspiring, this anthology of thoughts about death ranges from ancient times to the present day--including almost 900 selections by poets, novelists, philosophers, scientists, and common people. Arranged under headings such as "Love," "War," "Last Words," and "Children," these selections show the varied, sometimes surprising, reactions of the dying and the bereaved to the final human act. |
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We slowly drove He knew no haste And I had put away My labour and my leisure too , For His CivilityWe passed the School , where Children strove At Recess in the RingWe passed the Fields of Gazing GrainWe passed the Setting SunOr ...
We slowly drove He knew no haste And I had put away My labour and my leisure too , For His CivilityWe passed the School , where Children strove At Recess in the RingWe passed the Fields of Gazing GrainWe passed the Setting SunOr ...
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Each time I passed that place the protest of those fingers became more expressive of an appeal to God in defiance of those who made the War . Who made the War ? I laughed hysterically as the thought passed through my mud - stained mind ...
Each time I passed that place the protest of those fingers became more expressive of an appeal to God in defiance of those who made the War . Who made the War ? I laughed hysterically as the thought passed through my mud - stained mind ...
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Nay : when she heard you had passed the Gate That shuts on all flesh soon or late , She thought you no more worth her hate , And cares not where you lie . ' Then , who is digging on my grave ? Say since I have not guessed !
Nay : when she heard you had passed the Gate That shuts on all flesh soon or late , She thought you no more worth her hate , And cares not where you lie . ' Then , who is digging on my grave ? Say since I have not guessed !
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Vartotojo apžvalga - plenilune - LibraryThingI have the old hard-bound version, given to my mother after my father died, with passages she underlined and my little sister's crayon scribbles. Growing up, I assumed it must be like The Egyptian ... Skaityti visą apžvalgą
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A. E. Housman Alistair Elliot Arthur Waley asked believe bird body breath buried child coffin Collected Poems Copyright Czesław Miłosz D. J. Enright dark dead dear death died dying earth Epitaph eternal eyes Faber & Faber Faber Ltd face fear feel flowers friends funeral ghosts grave grief H. T. Lowe-Porter hand hath head hear heart heaven Hell human immortality John kill Kleinzeit Knopf Inc leave letter live look Lord Michael Hamburger mind mother mourning N. J. Dawood nature never night Oxford University Press pain Penguin Books Ltd permission of Faber permission of Oxford pleasure poet poor Reprinted by permission sleep smile sorrow soul spirit suicide sweet Sylvia Townsend Warner talk Ted Hughes tell thee things Thomas thou thought trans W. S. Merwin walk weeping words young