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Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.

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
Rapture
Parts
Sorrow
Experience
Three
Self

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
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The stigma of oddness is the price a myopic world always exacts of genius.
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Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?
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Youth condemns maturity condones
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When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
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Happiness, to some, elation Is, to others, mere stagnation.
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I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
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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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All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
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Poets are always the advance guard of literature the advance guard of life. It is for this reason that their recognition comes so slowly.
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Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.
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My words are little jars For you to take and put upon a shelf. Their shapes are quaint and beautiful, And they have many pleasant colours and lustres To recommend them. Also the scent from them fills the room With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses.
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I must be mad, or very tired, When the curve of a blue bay beyond a railroad track Is shrill and sweet to me like the sudden springing of a tune, And the sight of a white church above thin trees in a city square Amazes my eyes as though it were the Parthenon.
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Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whalebone and brocade.
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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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Polyphonic prose is a kind of free verse, except that it is still freer. Polyphonic makes full use of cadence, rime, alliteration, assonance.
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I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed.
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
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Great emotion always tends to become rhythmic, and out of that tendency the forms of art have been evolved. Art becomes artificial only when the forms take precedence over the emotion.
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Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River are your words in the dark, Beloved.
Amy Lowell