Author: Wilfred Owen

Cited by

• Niall Ferguson (1)
  • IN: The Pity of War (1998) Non-Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: For by my glee might many men have laughed, / And of my weeping something had been left, / Which must die now. I mean the truth untold, / The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
    FROM: "Strange Meeting", (1919), Poem, UK
• Shamini Flint (1)
  • IN: The Undone Years (2012) Historical Fiction, Singaporean
    EPIGRAPH: "Strange, friend," I said, "Here is no cause to mourn." / "None," said the other, "Save the undone years."
    FROM: Strange Meeting, (1919), Poem, UK
• Laurie Halse Anderson (1)
  • IN: The Impossible Knife of Memory (2014) Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: There are men whose minds the Dead have ravished. Memory fingers in their hair of murders...
    FROM: Mental Cases, (1918), Poem, UK
• Sally Green (1)
  • IN: Half Wild (2015) Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: You'll feel my heavy spirit chill your chest, And climb your throat on sobs.
    FROM: Wild with All Regrets, (1917), Poem, UK
• Various authors (1)
  • IN: The Great War (2014) Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, NULL
    EPIGRAPH: What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
    FROM: Anthem for Doomed Youth, (1920), Poem, UK
• Justin Go (1)
  • IN: The Steady Running of the Hour (2014) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: "Strange friend," I said, "here is no cause to mourn." "None," said the other, "save the undone years, The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours, Was my life alsol I went hunting wild After the wildest beauty in the world, Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair, But mocks the steady running of the hour, And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here...
    FROM: Strange Meeting, (1919), Poem, UK
• Karen Maitland (1)
  • IN: The Falcons of Fire and Ice (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
    FROM: Strange Meeting, (1919), Poem, UK
• Sena Jeter Naslund (1)
  • IN: Adam & Eve (2010) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Move him into the sun -- Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds -- Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved, -- still warm, -- too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? -- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?
    FROM: "Futility", (1983), Poem, UK
• Shira Nayman (1)
  • IN: The Listener (2010) Fiction, NULL
    EPIGRAPH: My poetry is War, and the Pity of war. The Poetry is in the pity.
    FROM: "Dulce Et Decorum Est", (1920), Poem, UK
• Katharine McMahon (1)
  • IN: The Crimson Rooms (2009) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: She sleeps on soft, last breaths; but no ghost looms Out of the stillness of her palace wall, Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms. She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms, Not marvelling why her roses never fall Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms. The shades keep down which well might roam her hall. Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms And she is not afraid of their footfall. They move not from her tapestries, their pall, Nor pace her terraces, their hecatombs, Lest aught she be disturbed, or grieved at all.
    FROM: The Kind Ghosts, (1918), Poem, UK
• Manuel De Lope (1)
  • IN: The wrong Blood (2000) Fiction, NULL
    EPIGRAPH: Will He... Fill the void veins of Life again with youth?
    FROM: War Poems, (1983), Poem, UK
• Paul Hoffman (1)
  • IN: The Last Four Things (2011) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: I fought like an angel.
    FROM: In a 1918 letter from Owen to his mother, (1918), Letter, UK