Wilfred Owen Quotes

Colder by the hour, more dead with every breath.

Man dies of cold, not of darkness.

All travellers who had preceded me into the Barren Grounds had relied on the abundant game, and in consequence suffered dreadful hardships; in some cases even starved to death.

We were marooned in a frozen desert. There was not a sign of life on the horizon and a thousand signs of death... The marvel is we did not all die of cold.

There was no sun; there was no light. I was dying. I couldn't remember what the sky looked like. But I didn't die. I was lost to a sea of cold, and then I was reborn into a world of warmth.

I'd just as soon freeze to death.

In war, you win or lose, live or die - and the difference is just an eyelash.

In the story I eventually called 'Archangel' and published in 2008, Eudora MacEachern, working as an assistant to a surgeon at a hospital in Archangel, one night finds outside the gates an exhausted and frostbitten soldier crouched over the reins of a pony sleigh carrying the body of another soldier.

All of a sudden their husband's dead and maybe a child is dead and they have absolutely nothing - and they're heading through the desert at night.

The war years were the most difficult time of my life. There was real famine in Moscow. The water froze inside the houses. There was no heat.

When life is victorious, there is birth; when it is thwarted, there is death. A warrior is always engaged in a life-and-death struggle for Peace.

Being over seventy is like being engaged in a war. All our friends are going or gone and we survive amongst the dead and the dying as on a battlefield.

Antarctica is otherworldly, like nothing I've ever seen before. Stark, cold, beautiful desolation.

The dominant feeling of the battlefield is loneliness.

You are done for - a living dead man - not when you stop loving but stop hating. Hatred preserves: in it, in its chemistry, resides the mystery of life.

These are the stakes. To make a world in which all of God’s children can live, or to go into the dark. We must either love each other, or we must die

I shot a lingerie campaign in Munich once during the winter, and it was actually snowing. At one point, my body literally turned blue, and we had to stop for 20 minutes to get my temperature back to normal. I kept telling myself, 'Try not think about the cold,' but that's extremely hard when you feel like your toes are about to fall off.

Not being dead is my version of partying. So far, so good.

In war, everything changes. You are very selective of what you do because everything you do can be the last thing you do in your life.

You can't stay in the desert, you go nuts after 24 hours.

You speak as if a war were raging." "To the remains of the human race, one is.

Wage war on death. Live for love.

Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods

They cared for no one, they were outside humanity, and death, had it come, would only have continued their pursuit of a retreating horizon.

They were here all at once, but not together. Survival took self-absorption, and it made them strangers with nothing to do and no way to relate. Emergencies gave you a shape and a plot to take part in, while death was no story at all. It left you nothing.