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Luminous, unfearful high-priestesses, our fervour shall banish all evil.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Priestesses
Banish
Luminous
Shall
High
Religion
Evil
Fervour

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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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.
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Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
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A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
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Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
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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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Dance until the earth dance.
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The elixir of life, the philosopher's stone is yours if you surrender sterile logic, trivial reason.
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For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
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She did not look at the daffodils. They didn't mean anything. She looked at the daffodils. She said, 'Thank you for the daffodils.
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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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The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
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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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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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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.
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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
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I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
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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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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 . . .
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I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
Hilda Doolittle