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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Gods
Fairs
Fair
Artist
Art
Must
Real
Painted

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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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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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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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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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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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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
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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
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Lift up our eyes to you? no, God, we stare and stare, upon a nearer thing that greets us here, Death, violent and near.
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.
Hilda Doolittle
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Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
Hilda Doolittle
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Dance until the earth dance.
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.
Hilda Doolittle
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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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War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
Hilda Doolittle
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The whole white world is ours.
Hilda Doolittle
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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
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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Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
Hilda Doolittle