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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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Hilda Doolittle
Worship
Bacchus
Longer
Cloth
Women
Spun
Made
Mad
Madness
Driven
Claims
Drinking

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.
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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 . . .
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The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
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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.
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Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
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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.
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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?
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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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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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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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There is no man can take, there is no pool can slake, ultimately I am alone ultimately I am done.
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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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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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
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I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
Hilda Doolittle
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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
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For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
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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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
Hilda Doolittle
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A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
Hilda Doolittle