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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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Hilda Doolittle
Pool
Ultimately
Solitude
Alone
Take
Done
Men

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
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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.
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Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
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I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
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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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The whole white world is ours.
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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.
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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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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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Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
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My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
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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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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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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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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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The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
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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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
Hilda Doolittle