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I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.

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
Creed
Shells
Creeds
Atheism
Lying
Shell

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
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On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns maturity condones.
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In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jeweled fan, I too am a rare Pattern.
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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.
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May is much sunshine through small leaves.
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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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Everything mortal has moments immortal
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If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.
Amy Lowell
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Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whalebone and brocade.
Amy Lowell
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Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
Amy Lowell
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Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
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Happiness, to some, elation Is, to others, mere stagnation.
Amy Lowell
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To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
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Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
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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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I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
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My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
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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
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Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.
Amy Lowell
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Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
Amy Lowell