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Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Riven
Garment
Garments
Rises
Showing
Night
Light
Love
Parnassus

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
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I myself have seen the floating ships And nothing will ever be the same The shouts, The harrowing voices within the house. I stand apart with an army: My mind is graven with ships.
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The whole white world is ours.
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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
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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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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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The stallion and his mare, unbridled, with arrow-pattern, are worked on. the blue cloth before the door of religion and inspiration.
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My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
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She did not look at the daffodils. They didn't mean anything. She looked at the daffodils. She said, 'Thank you for the daffodils.
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For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
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Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
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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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War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
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Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
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Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
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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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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
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Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
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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.
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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
Hilda Doolittle