Quote

A black cat among roses, phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon, the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with perfume.

Amy Lowell

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Amy Lowell
Age: 51 †
Born: 1874
Born: February 9
Died: 1925
Died: May 12
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Brookline
Massachusetts
Amy Lawrence Lowell
Night
Cat
Contented
Stills
Smell
Smells
Still
Rose
Moonlight
Garden
Quarter
Moon
Roses
Among
Perfume
Scented
Sweet
Quarters
Lilac
Black
Stock
Dazed

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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My heart is tuned to sorrow, and the strings Vibrate most readily to minor chords, Searching and sad my mind is stuffed with words Which voice the passion and the ache of things: Illusions beating with their baffled wings Against the walls of circumstance.
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
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Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River are your words in the dark, Beloved.
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Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
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Everything mortal has moments immortal
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This is America, This vast, confused beauty, This staring, restless speed of loveliness, Mighty, overwhelming, crude, of all forms, Making grandeur out of profusion, Afraid of no incongruities, Sublime in its audacity, Bizarre breaker of moulds.
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All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
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If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.
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To understand Vers libre, one must abandon all desire to find in it the even rhythm of metrical feet. One must allow the lines to flow as they will when read aloud by an intelligent reader.
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So with the stretch of the white road before me, Shining snow crystals rainbowed by the sun, Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows, Strong with the strength of my horse as we run. Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight! Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.
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Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.
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How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
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I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul.
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Poetry is the most concentrated form of literature it is the most emotionalized and powerful way in which thought can be presented.
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Only those of our poets who kept solidly to the Shakespearean tradition achieved any measure of success. But Keats was the last great exponent of that tradition, and we all know how thin, how lacking in charm, the copies of Keats have become.
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Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
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Art is like politics. Any theory carried too far ends in sterility, and freshness is only gained by following some other line.
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Guarded within the old red wall's embrace, Marshalled like soldiers in gay company, The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry Wheels out into the sunlight.
Amy Lowell
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My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
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Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
Amy Lowell