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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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Amy Lowell
Age: 51 †
Born: 1874
Born: February 9
Died: 1925
Died: May 12
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Brookline
Massachusetts
Amy Lawrence Lowell
Failing
Fire
Belief
Stills
Still
Burns
Much
Believed
Fail
Worship
More quotes by Amy Lowell
Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
Amy Lowell
How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
Amy Lowell
Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
Amy Lowell
Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
Amy Lowell
How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
Amy Lowell
Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whalebone and brocade.
Amy Lowell
Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses All bent upon killing, because their of courses Are not quite the same.
Amy Lowell
Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River are your words in the dark, Beloved.
Amy Lowell
The stigma of oddness is the price a myopic world always exacts of genius.
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
Polyphonic prose is a kind of free verse, except that it is still freer. Polyphonic makes full use of cadence, rime, alliteration, assonance.
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
May is much sunshine through small leaves.
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
Even pain pricks to livelier living.
Amy Lowell
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
Amy Lowell
Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.
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
You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
Amy Lowell
