Quote

How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!

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
Tick
Emptiness
Clock
Loud
Empty
Room
Rooms
Alone
Clocks

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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May is much sunshine through small leaves.
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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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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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Everything mortal has moments immortal
Amy Lowell
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The stigma of oddness is the price a myopic world always exacts of genius.
Amy Lowell
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Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin
Amy Lowell
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To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
Amy Lowell
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Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart.
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Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity.
Amy Lowell
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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.
Amy Lowell
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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
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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.
Amy Lowell
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Happiness, to some, elation Is, to others, mere stagnation.
Amy Lowell
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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?
Amy Lowell
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When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
Amy Lowell
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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.
Amy Lowell
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You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
Amy Lowell
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Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin, A basin in the midst of hedges grown So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding, But she guesses he is near, And the sliding of the water Seems the stroking of a dear Hand upon her.
Amy Lowell
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Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
Amy Lowell