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I have never advocated war except as a means of peace.

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Although a soldier by profession, I have never felt any sort of fondness for war, and I have never advocated it, except as a means of peace.

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What You Have Never Known At All

what you have never known at all
the song of the soul

the labyrinths of the mystical
and the pluperfect

lead you to
nowhere

what you have felt is simply the air
passing you by

get to know the absurd
it will not tell you its name

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A Poet You Have Never Heard Before

A poet you have never heard before
Not only says something in a way
You never heard things said before
He speaks about those things
You never thought could be interesting
And makes them interesting-

A poet you never heard before
Has a mind unlike your own
A heart unlike your own
Is not you and will never be you
Even long after you have read him
again and again.

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You Who Have Never Been There....

what then doth the bird
learn from the cage?
what doth the bare limb
learn from the snow?
what doth the starving child
learn from his hunger?
what doth the homeless man
learn from the lighted window?
what doth the oppressed
learn from his oppression?
what doth the one discriminated against
learn from discrimination?
what doth the hopeless one
learn from his despair?
is it that easy for you to know,
you who have never been there?

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I have never been to Duhallow

hello my friend, i have heard of Duhallow
where trees are thick and green where brooks flow in spring
where flowers bloom where the birds sing
where women take their baths in rivers so clear and clean
where men do wait and gentle as they care
where mountains tower where forests prevail
where the air is cool where the nights as starry as before

hello my friend, i have never been to Duhallow
i have always dreamed of Duhallows
hello my friend, please take me there with you
in Duhallow, to Duhallow, cheers for Duhallow! ..

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Emily Dickinson

I have never seen

175

I have never seen "Volcanoes"—
But, when Travellers tell
How those old—phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still—

Bear within—appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men—

If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place—

If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome—
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?

If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy "Pompeii"!
To the Hills return!

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Emily Dickinson

I have never seen "Volcanoes"

175

I have never seen "Volcanoes"—
But, when Travellers tell
How those old—phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still—

Bear within—appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men—

If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place—

If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome—
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?

If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy "Pompeii"!
To the Hills return!

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Beyond A Tracing I Have Never Been...

Somewhere there around me
I find a new fire burning
With colourful flames hitherto unseen.
I find that it is burning with fumes
Souring to the altitudes hitherto unreached.
In fact my joy knows no bounds.

I feel the thing burning now
Oh, my mind is it!
I find the eccentric crowd cheering
My people are it!
And a gloom begins to embrace me.

The flames flicker and go slende,
The smoke withers and dies,
And the souls unseen creep back into the holes,
I feel a stench of my mind
And a heap of ash remains.

I can`t see new things burning,
Nor can I search for flames thereof.
With what little is left over in me since
I have to somehow trace a form of mine
To speak certain brutal truths to you.

Beyond a tracing I have never been...

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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been

THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN

The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.

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WE Would Have Never Been In This Predicament

What do we do 'now'?

'We' who? '

You and me?

'Oh...
So NOW we are a WE?
I think you made it clear,
You were in the majority.
And I followed your lead.

But guess what?
I have never paid you any attention.
And all that stuff you said about me...
To have my wants and dreams,
As the lesser of 'your' necessities?
Is this a joke you wish to provoke?
At my expense and empathy?

There is no 'We'.
THIS has always been about you.
And YOUR activities has made that proven.
With your ethnic insinuations.
And your mandated philosophies!

THIS...
Is about YOU.
If it was a 'We'...
WE would have never been in this predicament,
As an 'US'!
Not you and I...
As 'in' an US!
You must want me to cuss?
These comments spoken to you,
You can count on and trust! ?

US?
WE?
YOU and ME?
Please!
You've had me too long on my knees! '

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Because We Have Never Told Them

there is a straight path
and you want to walk straight to it
you cannot, there is this desire to
go inside a circle and hide
behind those curves,
there is this wish to find a resting place
a glass cage
a one-way mirror where you see all of them
and then
no one sees you
sometimes i look for some reasons why
this behavior is sought

there is this straight path that nobody wants to take
it is too tight in there
and everyone sees you
and their gaze hurt a lot
and you do not deserve to suffer upon their causes

no wonder birds travel on clouds
and build their nests
how men made walls
how women hide their faces on hats and
winter coats

there is this secret that we keep
that we bring even to our death
it is this secret that makes us what we are

others miss us
because we have never told them
the trees wish to look inside the nests
where birds have already flown away

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People In Other People's Lives They Have Never Met

Are you that person,
To take what you hear...
To be fact and not fiction?

Have you ever disliked someone,
Because of what you've heard?

Did you ever disrespect anyone,
To one day regret paying attention to gossip?
Helping to spread the rumors...
That defamed and shamed lives that were done.
And you had been the main one...
Wishing to pass on fresh innuendos to come.

And one day...
You just happen to meet,
The nicest person someone else introduced to you...
As the two of you met,
Coincidentally on the street.

And there you were,
Feeling embarrassed with remorse...
You and others,
Were the reason this person was divorced!

Well...
You are not alone.
There are so many people in other people's lives,
They have never met.
Nor have ever seen before...
Until they actually meet!
On the street or socially...
With wishes they could find someone like that,
To come home to and be happy to love.

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I know that I have never have been as alone

I know that I have
never have been as alone
as at the Strand
that December holiday.

People in love
smiled at each other
everywhere that I looked,

some walked hand in hand,
some sunbathed together,
some splashed into the sea

but there was no you and I
and on that day
my heart was breaking

and I sat on my own
gazing at the deep blue
when a shadow fell on my face.

The sun made her blonde hair gold
and the smile on her face
was innocent and pure

and somewhere in the blue of her eyes
I saw my own pain
and she sat down next to me wordless.

That same morning before I took
the train to the beach
I prayed for someone to understand

and felt so lost from life
and hopeless as if never again
I would make a impression
on somebody beautiful

and she said that tomorrow
will be another day
and that in time
the pain would go

and that girl was really sweet,
we shared some ice cream,
acted as though were in love
and somehow everything felt right
and I never saw that girl again.

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I know that I have never have been as alone [2]

I know that I have
never have been as alone
as at the Strand
that December holiday.

People in love
smiled at each other
everywhere that I looked,

some walked hand in hand,
some sunbathed together,
some splashed into the sea

but there was no you and I
and on that day
my heart was breaking

and I sat on my own
gazing at the deep blue
when a shadow fell on my face.

The sun made her blonde hair gold
and the smile on her face
was innocent and pure

and somewhere in the blue of her eyes
I saw my own pain
and she sat down next to me wordless.

That same morning before I took
the train to the beach
I prayed for someone to understand

and felt so lost from life
and hopeless as if never again
I would make a impression
on somebody beautiful

and she said that tomorrow
will be another day
and that in time
the pain would go

and that girl was really sweet,
we shared some ice cream,
acted as though were in love
and somehow everything felt right
and I never saw that girl again.

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Should Have Never Told Me

You should have never told me
That you love me
You should have never told me, told me, told me
That you care
Ever since that day I saw your lovely face
You were on my mind
I knew that one day I would make you love me
It was just a matter of time
Every night and every day, girl
Im thinking of you
Girl, I cant believe youre mine
Way you kiss, youre right on time
Should have never told me
That you love me
You should have never told me, told me, told me
That you care
If by chance I owned the whole world
Id give it to you
All Im trying to say
Love you through and through
Girl, lets stay together for life
cause you are my sugar and spice
Should have never told me
That you love me
You should have never told me, told me, told me
That you care
Naw, baby
Oh, baby
Should have never told me
That you love me
Should have never told me, told me, told me
That you care
Should have never told me
That you love me
Should have never told me, told me, told me
That you care
Should have never told me
That you love me

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Droop'st thou and fail'st? but these have never tired

Droop'st thou and fail'st? but these have never tired;
winds of the region, free, they shine and sing,
unurged, unguerdon'd: hast thou then desired
to be with them and trail'st a useless wing?
Self-pity hath thee in her clinging damp,
and makes a siren-music of thy woes
to lure thy feet into that reptile-swamp
where rancour's muddy stream, festering, throes.
Cunning is her condolence with the snarl
of canker'd memory or the soft tear
for vanisht sweetness: come, an honest parle,
air for thy ailment! make these wrongs appear.
Ay, this hath spat at thee, and that hath flung
his native mud, and that with bilious guile
most plausible — what! hast thou loved and sung
as was in thee, and need'st do else than smile?
(Heed not that subtle demon that would prompt
to measure thee by them; so humbled yet
thou art not, nor so beggar'd thine accompt:
what thou art, that thou hast, and know'st thy debt.)
And in thy house of love the venom'd dart
was thrust within thy side — Even so! must then
the gather'd ripeness of thy mind and heart
be turn'd to flies? that is no way for men.
Who said, and rid himself of usual awe,
I prize not man, save as his metal rings
of god or hero? Hast thou made a law,
live by thy law: 'tis carrion hath no wings.

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Should Have Never Crossed Your Path

Should have never crossed your path
Funny things you want the most
Should soon be taken back
Slap my own hands like a child
Stealing from the candy store
I think Ive taken to your smile
And I hunger for your laugh
Do the craziest things like look around
When I know youre nowhere near me
Break my back on a song
Though I know youre not there to hear
Unanswered questions lying on the coffee table
From a song I havent finished since last summer
Cause I never could decide how much was gin
How much the sea
Or other incidentals clouding what was really me
Everything I am is bare feet and burning sand
Waiting for the calm cool hand of the sea
A madman of emotions waiting for the drug effect
Of the reason and the intellect to comfort me
Half the time I love you like you love the falls first breeze
Then you seem as distant as the skeletons of trees
Far away outside my window
Where inside I think of you
As if I thought hard enough Id know which way to turn
And what to do
Ooh
Ooh
Ooh
Ooh
Im quite sure Ill be alright
We all live with some distraction
Its just too bad
Mine will hang around all day and night
Like an uninvited guest
You cant turn away try hard as you might
Lord knows Ive tried
I might let it go and take a long long run
Quit my job and join the coastline baking in the sun
Then again I might just make big plans
And leave them on the table
Like the song I left unfinished
And the words I am unable
I will always be unable to express
Ooh
Ooh
Ooh
Ooh

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Patrick White

I Have Never Said

I have never said to anyone that I loved them
and not meant stars, not meant soft green lanterns, not
meant the light coming out of the dark
and fireflies on a windy summer night by a black lake
or the lamp that draws the doe out of the shadows
or the moon drunk quicksilver in the inebriated window
warping its image through the delusional weeping
of dirty winter glass signed like a guestbook
by everybody’s tears, inside and out, and this
still the case though I’m old enough to know
all that crying never turned into a single chandelier
and sad ink’s a bigger liar thread for thread
than the dyes of joy that colour the whole head hopeful.
And I have lain like an island of flesh in a coven of candles
beside cool dolphins with seabird hands
off the coast of my longing, and marvelled
at the amazing bridges of their bodies
and how they nudged my shipwrecked heart ashore.

I have never said to anyone that I loved them
and not meant the mountain ribbon of a bloodstream
that could fill to the brim the infinite cosmic goblet
of an eye, emptier than a telescope dying of thirst
in a desert of stars, with the wine of its endless flowing;
never said I love you to a tree or a door or a cat
or the chain of footprints I drag through the snow like the past
and not meant some era of a woman
who came and stayed awhile with me
in the desolate shadows of a late afternoon apartment
like the first rising of a second moon
I could live on alone in a garden of skulls and fountains.

And even when I draw the suicidal hypotenuse
of love’s last crescent across my left wrist
to bury myself in an alma mater of unsanctified ground,
having given a hand to the death of a savage passion,
or swept my continental vision off the table
back into the coffin like an archipelago
of missing jigsaw pieces, more vacancies than a honeymoon hotel
everytime I try to assemble it, I still know
even if it isn’t vouched to me,
that love is life, and life is a bride
that walks to the altar of her mysterious sacrifice alone,
trailing her ancient veil of stars
along this endless road of ghosts, and somehow
even when I’m the corpse of a fox in the ditch
among the white, sweet, wedding clover,
having been struck from the glare of her highbeams,
it is always somehow strangely okay
and foolishly worth it.

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Salvador Dali

Wars have never hurt anybody except the people who die.

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There is a terrible war coming, and these young men who have never seen war cannot wait for it to happen, but I tell you, I wish that I owned every slave in the South, for I would free them all to avoid this war.

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