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It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
Hilda Doolittle
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Hilda Doolittle
Prophecy
Madness
Destruction
Cities
Fall
Great
More quotes by Hilda Doolittle
You are wind in a stark tree, you are the stark tree unbent, you are a strung bow, you are an arrow.
Hilda Doolittle
Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
Hilda Doolittle
Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
Hilda Doolittle
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
The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
Hilda Doolittle
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.
Hilda Doolittle
I testify to rainbow feathers, to the span of heaven and walls of colour, the colonnades of jasper.
Hilda Doolittle
My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
Hilda Doolittle
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
The whole white world is ours.
Hilda Doolittle
For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
Hilda Doolittle
Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
Hilda Doolittle
(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
Hilda Doolittle
Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
Hilda Doolittle
The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
Hilda Doolittle
Dance until the earth dance.
Hilda Doolittle
We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded we have no map possibly we will reach haven, heaven.
Hilda Doolittle
For you are abstract, making no mistake, slurring no word in the rhythm you make, the poem, writ in the air.
Hilda Doolittle
When the shingles hissed in the rain incendiary, other values were revealed to us
Hilda Doolittle