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The last faint spark In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending dark, The wounds of the baited bear,-- The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat On his helpless flesh . . . the tears of the hunted hare.
Edith Sitwell
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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
Dark
Flesh
Keepers
Lasts
Bear
Faint
Last
Misery
Weeping
Self
Beats
Spark
Baited
Heart
Blind
Sparks
Hare
Bears
Helpless
Hares
Tears
Wounds
Hunted
Darkness
Beat
Murdered
More quotes by Edith Sitwell
Good taste is the worst vice ever invented.
Edith Sitwell
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
The light would show (if it could harden) Eternities of kitchen garden
Edith Sitwell
The public will believe anything, so long as it is not founded on truth.
Edith Sitwell
As for the usefulness of poetry, its uses are many. It is the deification of reality.
Edith Sitwell
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
All great poetry is dipped in the dyes of the heart.
Edith Sitwell
I wouldn't dream of following a fashion... how could one be a different person every three months?
Edith Sitwell
There is no truth. Only points of view.
Edith Sitwell
I am one of those unhappy persons who inspire bores to the greatest flights of art.
Edith Sitwell
The aim of flattery is to soothe and encourage us by assuring us of the truth of an opinion we have already formed about ourselves.
Edith Sitwell
I'm not the man to baulk at a low smell, I'm not the man to insist on asphodel. This sounds like a He-fellow, don't you think? It sounds like that. I belch, I bawl, I drink.
Edith Sitwell
I am an unpopular electric eel set in a pond of goldfish.
Edith Sitwell
My temper is not spoilt. I am absolutely non-homicidal. Nor do I ever attack unless I have been attacked first, and then Heaven have mercy upon the attacker, because I don't! I just sharpen my wits on a wooden head as a cat sharpens its claws on the wood legs of a table.
Edith Sitwell
Virginia Woolf, I enjoyed talking to her, but thought nothing of her writing. I considered her 'a beautiful little knitter.
Edith Sitwell
As for the usefulness of poetry, its uses are many. It is the deification of reality. It should make our days holy to us. The poet should speak to all men, for a moment, of that other life of theirs that they have smothered and forgotten.
Edith Sitwell
Rhythm is one of the principal translators between dream and reality. Rhythm might be described as, to the world of sound, what light is to the world of sight. It shapes and gives new meaning. Rhythm was described by Schopenhauer as melody deprived of its pitch.
Edith Sitwell
Virginia Woolf's writing is no more than glamorous knitting. I believe she must have a pattern somewhere.
Edith Sitwell
[History is] that terrible mill in which sawdust rejoins sawdust.
Edith Sitwell
I am patient with stupidity but not with those who are proud of it.
Edith Sitwell