Quote

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

Hilda Doolittle

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Hilda Doolittle
Painted
Gods
Fairs
Fair
Artist
Art
Must
Real

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

Image
The stallion and his mare, unbridled, with arrow-pattern, are worked on. the blue cloth before the door of religion and inspiration.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
There is no man can take, there is no pool can slake, ultimately I am alone ultimately I am done.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded we have no map possibly we will reach haven, heaven.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
There's a black rose growing in your garden.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
For you are abstract, making no mistake, slurring no word in the rhythm you make, the poem, writ in the air.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
I will be free, no lover's kiss to bind me to earth, no bliss of love to counteract actual bliss.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
You are wind in a stark tree, you are the stark tree unbent, you are a strung bow, you are an arrow.
Hilda Doolittle