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The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
True
May
Live
Things
Nameless
Named
Knowledge

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
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I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
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My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
Hilda Doolittle
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For you are abstract, making no mistake, slurring no word in the rhythm you make, the poem, writ in the air.
Hilda Doolittle
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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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Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
Hilda Doolittle
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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
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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.
Hilda Doolittle
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The stallion and his mare, unbridled, with arrow-pattern, are worked on. the blue cloth before the door of religion and inspiration.
Hilda Doolittle
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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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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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I will be free, no lover's kiss to bind me to earth, no bliss of love to counteract actual bliss.
Hilda Doolittle
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Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
Hilda Doolittle
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The elixir of life, the philosopher's stone is yours if you surrender sterile logic, trivial reason.
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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Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
Hilda Doolittle
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Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
Hilda Doolittle
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Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
Hilda Doolittle