Quote

I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.

Hilda Doolittle

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Hilda Doolittle
Love
Spit
Honey
Mouth
Mouths
Sweet
Second
Best
Nothing
Eros

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

Image
She did not look at the daffodils. They didn't mean anything. She looked at the daffodils. She said, 'Thank you for the daffodils.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded we have no map possibly we will reach haven, heaven.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
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
Words were her plague and words were her redemption.
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
It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
You are wind in a stark tree, you are the stark tree unbent, you are a strung bow, you are an arrow.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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 . . .
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
A slight wind shakes the seed-pods my thoughts are spent as the black seeds.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
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
Image
There's a black rose growing in your garden.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
Dance until the earth dance.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
Hilda Doolittle
Image
The whole white world is ours.
Hilda Doolittle