Quote

All great poetry is dipped in the dyes of the heart.

Edith Sitwell

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Edith Sitwell
Age: 77 †
Born: 1887
Born: September 7
Died: 1964
Died: December 9
Biographer
Essayist
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
Scarborough
North Yorkshire
Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
Edith Louisa Sitwell
Dame Edith Sitwell
Miss Edith
Dyes
Dipped
Poetry
Great
Heart

More quotes by Edith Sitwell

Image
The public will believe anything, so long as it is not founded on truth.
Edith Sitwell
Image
The poet is a brother speaking to a brother of a moment of their other lives - a moment that had been buried beneath the dust of the busy world.
Edith Sitwell
Image
Good taste is the worst vice ever invented.
Edith Sitwell
Image
I have taken this step because I want the discipline, the fire and the authority of the Church. I am hopelessly unworthy of it, but I hope to become worthy.
Edith Sitwell
Image
Vulgarity is, in reality, nothing but a modern, chic, pert descendant of the goddess Dullness.
Edith Sitwell
Image
I have often wished I had time to cultivate modesty... but I am too busy thinking about myself.
Edith Sitwell
Image
Poetry ennobles the heart and the eyes, and unveils the meaning of all things upon which the heart and the eyes dwell. It discovers the secret rays of the universe, and restores to us forgotten paradises.
Edith Sitwell
Image
By 'happiness' I do not mean worldly success or outside approval, though it would be priggish to deny that both these things are most agreeable. I mean the inner consciousness, the inner conviction that one is doing well the thing that one is best fitted to do by nature.
Edith Sitwell
Image
The reason why Matthew Arnold, to my feeling, fails entirely as a poet (though no doubt his ideas were good - at least, I am told they were) is that he had no sense of touch whatsoever. Nothing made any impression on his skin. He could feel neither the shape nor the texture of a poem with his hands.
Edith Sitwell
Image
[History is] that terrible mill in which sawdust rejoins sawdust.
Edith Sitwell
Image
I wouldn't dream of following a fashion... how could one be a different person every three months?
Edith Sitwell
Image
It is hardly respectable to be good nowadays.
Edith Sitwell
Image
Our hearts seemed safe in our breasts and sang to the Light The marrow in the bone We dreamed was safe. . . the blood in the veins, the sap in the tree Were springs of Deity.
Edith Sitwell
Image
There is no truth. Only points of view.
Edith Sitwell
Image
The light would show (if it could harden) Eternities of kitchen garden
Edith Sitwell
Image
My personal hobbies are reading, listening to music, and silence.
Edith Sitwell
Image
White as a winding sheet, Masks blowing down the street: Moscow, Paris London, Vienna - all are undone. The drums of death are mumbling, rumbling, and tumbling, Mumbling, rumbling, and tumbling, The world's floors are quaking, crumbling and breaking.
Edith Sitwell
Image
I am one of those unhappy persons who inspire bores to the greatest flights of art.
Edith Sitwell
Image
In the Augustan age ... poetry was ... the sister of architecture with the romantics, and their heightened vowel-sense, resulting in different melodic lines, she became the sister of music in the present day, she appears like the sister of horticulture, each poem growing according to the law of its own nature.
Edith Sitwell
Image
The living blind and seeing Dead together lie As if in love . . . There was no more hating then, And no more love Gone is the heart of Man.
Edith Sitwell