Quote

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.

Hilda Doolittle

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Hilda Doolittle
Mind
Stand
Graven
Seen
Harrowing
Within
Shouts
Voice
Floating
War
Voices
House
Ships
Ever
Apart
Nothing
Army

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

Image
I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
For you are abstract, making no mistake, slurring no word in the rhythm you make, the poem, writ in the air.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Until it seems the whole city will be covered with gold pollen shaken from the bell-towers, lilies plundered with the weight of massive bees . . .
Hilda Doolittle
Image
There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
Hilda Doolittle
Image
The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
No poetic phantasy but a biological reality, a fact: I am an entity like bird, insect, plant or sea-plant cell I live I am alive.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
The elixir of life, the philosopher's stone is yours if you surrender sterile logic, trivial reason.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
The fallen hazel-nuts, Stripped late of their green sheaths, The grapes, red-purple, Their berries Dripping with wine, Pomegranates already broken, And shrunken fig, And quinces untouched, I bring thee as offering.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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?
Hilda Doolittle
Image
There's a black rose growing in your garden.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Pompeii has nothing to teach us, we know crack of volcanic fissure, slow flow of terrible lava, pressure on heart, lungs, the brain about to burst its brittle case (what the skull can endure!)
Hilda Doolittle
Image
War wreaked on you his hideous ravishment We, we alone, Nereids inviolate, Remain to weep, with the sea-birds to chant: Corinth is lost, Corinth is desolate.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Love has no charm when Love is swept to earth: you'd make a lop-winged god, frozen and contrite, of god up-darting, winged for passionate flight.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
Hilda Doolittle