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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.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Ships
Cast
Casts
Apart
Sea
Rock
Rocks
Wrecks
Beauty
Barren

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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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.
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My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
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I testify to rainbow feathers, to the span of heaven and walls of colour, the colonnades of jasper.
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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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Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
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Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
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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!)
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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.
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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
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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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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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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
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Luminous, unfearful high-priestesses, our fervour shall banish all evil.
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A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
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Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
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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.
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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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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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There is no man can take, there is no pool can slake, ultimately I am alone ultimately I am done.
Hilda Doolittle