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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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Hilda Doolittle
Freedom
Bind
Free
Lover
Earth
Bliss
Love
Actual
Kiss
Solitude
Kissing
Lovers
Counteract

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
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War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
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There is no man can take, there is no pool can slake, ultimately I am alone ultimately I am done.
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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
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I testify to rainbow feathers, to the span of heaven and walls of colour, the colonnades of jasper.
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We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded we have no map possibly we will reach haven, heaven.
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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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When the shingles hissed in the rain incendiary, other values were revealed to us
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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.
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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.
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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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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.
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The whole white world is ours.
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Pompeii has nothing to teach us, we know crack of volcanic fissure, slow flow of terrible lava, pressure on heart, lungs, the brain about to burst its brittle case (what the skull can endure!)
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Maid of the luminous grey-eyes, Mistress of honey and marble implacable white thighs and Goddess, chaste daughter of Zeus.
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Dance until the earth dance.
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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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It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
Hilda Doolittle