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Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me,and drench me in loneliness.
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
Moon
Drench
Prone
Loneliness
Pity
More quotes by Amy Lowell
Poetry is the most concentrated form of literature it is the most emotionalized and powerful way in which thought can be presented.
Amy Lowell
Youth condemns maturity condones
Amy Lowell
When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Amy Lowell
A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.
Amy Lowell
All recurring joy is pain refined.
Amy Lowell
Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.
Amy Lowell
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.
Amy Lowell
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.
Amy Lowell
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.
Amy Lowell
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
Amy Lowell
Now you are come! You tremble like a star Poised where, behind earth's rim, the sun has set. Your voice has sung across my heart, but numb And mute, I have no tones to answer.
Amy Lowell
Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
Amy Lowell
Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.
Amy Lowell
Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.
Amy Lowell
If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.
Amy Lowell
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.
Amy Lowell
Everything mortal has moments immortal
Amy Lowell
Art is like politics. Any theory carried too far ends in sterility, and freshness is only gained by following some other line.
Amy Lowell
To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
Amy Lowell
Even pain pricks to livelier living.
Amy Lowell