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

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Fair
Artist
Art
Must
Real
Painted
Gods
Fairs

More quotes by 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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Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
Hilda Doolittle
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Dance until the earth dance.
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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Long hours trail in their purple and long years are lost in just this moment while our souls are near, our mouths separate.
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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(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
Hilda Doolittle
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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
Hilda Doolittle
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A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
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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You are wind in a stark tree, you are the stark tree unbent, you are a strung bow, you are an arrow.
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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Cheat me not with time, with the dull ache of flesh, for all flesh turns, even the loveliest ankle and frail thigh, to bitterest dust.
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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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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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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My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
Hilda Doolittle
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Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
Hilda Doolittle
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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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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