Life & Wisdom Quote by W. H. Auden

Auden’s jab lands because it punctures a very modern vanity: the idea that art’s highest virtue is being “new.” He draws a hard line between authenticity as a discipline and originality as a distraction. Authenticity, in his framing, isn’t diary-spilling sincerity or a branding posture. It’s the writerly accuracy of attention: saying what you actually see, feel, and know in language that doesn’t cheat. That’s something you can work at. Originality, by contrast, is a mirage that turns the page into a stage for novelty, where the writer performs difference instead of making meaning.

The subtext is almost parental in its impatience. Stop chasing the dopamine hit of being unprecedented. It’s not that Auden thinks originality is bad; he thinks it’s incidental. If you aim directly at it, you start writing around other people’s expectations of “fresh,” and your voice gets colonized by trend, posture, and anxiety. The most “original” work often arrives sideways, as a byproduct of obsessive honesty and craft.

Context matters: Auden wrote in a century of manifestos, avant-gardes, and aesthetic arms races, when “Make it new” became an artistic credential and, eventually, a market demand. His advice is quietly anti-commercial. It refuses the marketplace’s hunger for the next thing and insists that the real contest is with your own evasions. Authenticity is the harder target because it requires self-scrutiny; originality is the easier one because it can be faked with surface novelty. Auden is warning writers that the future won’t save them from sloppy seeing.