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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
Maidens
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More quotes by Hilda Doolittle
Take what the old-church found in Mithra's tomb, candle and script and bell, take what the new-church spat upon and broke and shattered.
Hilda Doolittle
The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
Hilda Doolittle
The stallion and his mare, unbridled, with arrow-pattern, are worked on. the blue cloth before the door of religion and inspiration.
Hilda Doolittle
Could beauty be beaten out, O youth the cities have sent to strike at each other's strength, it is you who have kept her alight.
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Maid of the luminous grey-eyes, Mistress of honey and marble implacable white thighs and Goddess, chaste daughter of Zeus.
Hilda Doolittle
(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
Hilda Doolittle
Dance until the earth dance.
Hilda Doolittle
A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
Hilda Doolittle
Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
Hilda Doolittle
It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
Hilda Doolittle
In my garden the winds have beaten the ripe lilies in my garden, the salt has wilted the first flakes of young narcissus.
Hilda Doolittle
I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
Hilda Doolittle
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.
Hilda Doolittle
I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
Hilda Doolittle
There's a black rose growing in your garden.
Hilda Doolittle
Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
Hilda Doolittle
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.
Hilda Doolittle
Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
Hilda Doolittle
But beauty is set apart, beauty is cast by the sea, a barren rock, beauty is set about with wrecks of ships.
Hilda Doolittle
Lift up our eyes to you? no, God, we stare and stare, upon a nearer thing that greets us here, Death, violent and near.
Hilda Doolittle