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Ted Hughes quotes

English Poet August 16, 1930 – October 28, 1998

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Quotes

Ted Hughes quote: "What’s writing really about? It’s about trying to take fuller..."
What’s writing really about? It’s about trying to take fuller possession of the reality of your life. Ted Hughes
It was a saying about noble figures in old Irish poems—he would give his hawk to any man that asked for it, yet he loved his hawk better than men nowadays love their bride of tomorrow. He would mourn a dog with more grief than men nowadays mourn their fathers. Ted Hughes
The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all. Ted Hughes
The dreamer in her. Had fallen in love with me and she did not know it. That moment the dreamer in me. Fell in love with her and I knew it Ted Hughes
The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed, And my head, worn out with love, at rest In my hands, and my hands full of dust. Ted Hughes
Day by day his sister grew. Paler with the wound. She could not see or touch or feel, as I dressed it. Each day with her blue Breton jacket.- from Life After Death Ted Hughes
Nothing is free. Everything has to be payed for. For every profit in one thing, payment in some other thing. For every life, a death. Even your music, of which we have heard so much, that had to be payed for. Your wife was the payment for your music. Hell is now satisfied. Ted Hughes
Nobody wanted your dance, Nobody wanted your strange glitter, your floundering. Drowning life and your effort to save yourself, Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil, Looking for something to give. Ted Hughes
He could not stand. It was not That he could not thrive, he was born With everything but the will – That can be deformed, just like a limb. Death was more interesting to him. Life could not get his attention. Ted Hughes
I think it was Milosz, the Polish poet, who when he lay in a doorway and watched the bullets lifting the cobbles out of the street beside him realised that most poetry is not equipped for life in a world where people actually die. But some is. Ted Hughes
A Childish Prank. Man's and woman's bodies lay without souls. Dully gaping, foolishly staring, inert. On the flowers of Eden. God pondered. The problem was so great, it dragged him asleep. Crow laughed. He bit the Worm, God's only son, Into two writhing halves. He stuffed into man the tail half. With the wounded end hanging out. He stuffed the head half headfirst into woman. And it crept in deeper and up. To peer out through her eyes. Calling it's tail-half to join up quickly, quickly.... Ted Hughes
Every single person is vulnerable to unexpected defeat in this inmost emotional self. At every moment, behind the most efficient seeming adult exterior, the whole world of the person's childhood is being carefully held like a glass of water bulging above the brim. And in fact, that child is the only real thing in them. It's their humanity, their real individuality, the one that can't understand why it was born and that knows it will have to die, in no matter how crowded a place, quite on its... Ted Hughes
That's the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they're suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That's why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster. Ted Hughes
Fishing provides that connection with the whole living world. It gives you the opportunity of being totally immersed, turning back into yourself in a good way. A form of meditation, some form of communion with levels of yourself that are deeper than the ordinary self. Ted Hughes
where are the gods the gods hate us the gods have run away the gods have hidden in holes the gods are dead of the plague they rot and stink too there never were any gods there’s only death Ted Hughes

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