{"author":"Wilfred Owen","author_id":"Wilfred+Owen","total_quotes":20,"quotes":[{"text":"Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["beauty","escape","eyes","gate","secret","war"],"id":18447,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, — knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: when each proud fighter bragsHe wars on Death, for lives; not men, for flags.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["poem","war"],"id":29672,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"But the old man would not so, but slew his son,And half the seed of Europe, one by one.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["martyrdom","war","wwi"],"id":44980,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["happiness","merriment","tears","war"],"id":67581,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"He's lost his colour very far from here,Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["dying"],"id":108555,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"You shall not hear their mirth:You shall not come to think them well contentBy any jest of mine. These men are worthYour tears:You are not worth their merriment.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["history","war"],"id":115101,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"What passing bells for these who die as cattle?Only the monstrous anger of the guns.Only the stuttering rifle's rapid rattleCan patter out their hasty orisons.No mockeries now for them; no prayers, nor bells,Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,The shrill demented choirs of wailing shells,And bugles calling for them from sad shires.What candles may be held to speed them all?Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes,Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall,Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,And each, slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["death-and-dying","war","warfare"],"id":173991,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"As bronze may be much beautified by lying in the dark damp soil, so men who fade in dust of warfare fade fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["bronze","darkness","death-and-dying","sorrow","soul","warfare"],"id":237204,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"All a poet can do today is warn.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["poetry","writing"],"id":260854,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"},{"text":"My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.","author":"Wilfred Owen","tags":["poetry","pity","subject "],"id":297034,"author_id":"Wilfred+Owen"}],"pagination":{"page":1,"page_size":10,"total":20,"pages":2,"next":"?page=2\u0026page_size=10"}}