Odysseus Elytis Quotes

Logic has rid us of the absurdity of our clothes. That's progress, no irony, only now we are cold. Hale and ill trade bodies with unusual willingness, while in midair souls tangle. The young start out disgusted and Poetry is left to the memo-writers.

If a separate personal Paradise exists for each of us, mine must be irreparably planted with trees of words which the wind silvers like poplars, by people who see their confiscated justice given back, and by birds that even in the midst of truth of death insist on singing in Greek and saying eros, eros, eros.

Coincidence, when raised to a symbol, occurs with mathematical precision at the most crucial moment, even for the squarest of minds. A moment the rest of us call higher will, Fate's gesture, something like that.

Forced relations between two things that superficially appear foreign create a new, instantaneous state. Authentic poetry asks nothing more. A kinship completely nonexistent moments ago was created by the poet's authority, just as it might have been created in life by the authority of chance.

In the final analysis, roses are nothing but tears. Nothing but the whistle of the leaving train and the breach of a promise. Sorrow, too, is nothing but an evening leaning on April

Beauty and the Illiterate"

Often, in the Repose of Evening her soul took a lightness from
the mountains across, although the day was harsh and
tomorrow foreign.

But, when it darkened well and out came the priest's hand over
the little garden of the dead, She

Alone, Standing, with the few domestics of the night - the blowing
rosemary and the murmur of smoke from the kilns -
at sea's entry, wakeful

Otherly beauty!

Only the waves' words half-guessed or in a rustle, and others
resembling the dead's that startle in the cypress, strange
zodiacs that lit up her magnetic moon-turned head.
And one

Unbelievable cleanliness allowed, to great depth in her, the real
landscape to be seen,

Where, near the river, the dark ones fought against the Angel,
exactly showing how she's born, Beauty

Or what we otherwise call tear.

And long as her thinking lasted, you could feel it overflow the
glowing sight bitterly in the eyes and the huge, like an
ancient prostitute's, cheekbones

Stretched to the extreme points of the Large Dog and of the Virgin.

"Far from the pestilential city I dreamed of her deserted plac