Quote

Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.

Hilda Doolittle

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Hilda Doolittle
Chill
Ache
Formal
Chisel
Artist
Chisels
Art
Tempt
Sculptor
Sculptors
Ardent

More quotes by 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
For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
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
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
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
I could not accept from wisdom what love taught, woman is perfect.
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
There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
Hilda Doolittle
Image
(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
Take what the old-church found in Mithra's tomb, candle and script and bell, take what the new-church spat upon and broke and shattered.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Dance until the earth dance.
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
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
I testify to rainbow feathers, to the span of heaven and walls of colour, the colonnades of jasper.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
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
Image
Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
Hilda Doolittle
Image
War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
Hilda Doolittle