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Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.

Hilda Doolittle

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Hilda Doolittle
Lows
Lovers
Memory
Memories
Blood
Call
May
Come

More quotes by Hilda Doolittle

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I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
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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.
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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 whole white world is ours.
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For you are abstract, making no mistake, slurring no word in the rhythm you make, the poem, writ in the air.
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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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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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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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Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
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No poetic phantasy but a biological reality, a fact: I am an entity like bird, insect, plant or sea-plant cell I live I am alive.
Hilda Doolittle
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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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There's a black rose growing in your garden.
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
Hilda Doolittle
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The race may or may not be to the swift, but tell me, is it likely that the fight will be entrusted to the dead?
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But beauty is set apart, beauty is cast by the sea, a barren rock, beauty is set about with wrecks of ships.
Hilda Doolittle
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My eye-balls are glass, my limbs marble, my face fixed in its marble mask.
Hilda Doolittle
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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
Hilda Doolittle