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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?

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Dead
Race
Fighting
Tell
May
Entrusted
Life
Swift
Likely
Fight

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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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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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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Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
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Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
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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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I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
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(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
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Maid of the luminous grey-eyes, Mistress of honey and marble implacable white thighs and Goddess, chaste daughter of Zeus.
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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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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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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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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
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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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The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
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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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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
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I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
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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.
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
Hilda Doolittle
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Dance until the earth dance.
Hilda Doolittle