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War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Clod
Maiden
Maidens
Alike
King
Kings
Takes
War
Fevered

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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You are wind in a stark tree, you are the stark tree unbent, you are a strung bow, you are an arrow.
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In my garden the winds have beaten the ripe lilies in my garden, the salt has wilted the first flakes of young narcissus.
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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
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We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded we have no map possibly we will reach haven, heaven.
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Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
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Long hours trail in their purple and long years are lost in just this moment while our souls are near, our mouths separate.
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But beauty is set apart, beauty is cast by the sea, a barren rock, beauty is set about with wrecks of ships.
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Cheat me not with time, with the dull ache of flesh, for all flesh turns, even the loveliest ankle and frail thigh, to bitterest dust.
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I myself have seen the floating ships And nothing will ever be the same The shouts, The harrowing voices within the house. I stand apart with an army: My mind is graven with ships.
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It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
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The race may or may not be to the swift, but tell me, is it likely that the fight will be entrusted to the dead?
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Lift up our eyes to you? no, God, we stare and stare, upon a nearer thing that greets us here, Death, violent and near.
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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
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I will be free, no lover's kiss to bind me to earth, no bliss of love to counteract actual bliss.
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There is no man can take, there is no pool can slake, ultimately I am alone ultimately I am done.
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Let Love step down, open the clasped hands, forfeit the thorny crown, retrieve the garment that was whole, body and spirit one, spirit and soul.
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I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
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The stallion and his mare, unbridled, with arrow-pattern, are worked on. the blue cloth before the door of religion and inspiration.
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