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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
Call
May
Come
Lows
Lovers
Memory
Memories
Blood

More quotes by 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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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.
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The whole white world is ours.
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Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
Hilda Doolittle
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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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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
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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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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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I will be free, no lover's kiss to bind me to earth, no bliss of love to counteract actual bliss.
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
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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I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
Hilda Doolittle
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The heart the heart the heart how it thrives on hate.
Hilda Doolittle
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Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
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I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
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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We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded we have no map possibly we will reach haven, heaven.
Hilda Doolittle
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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
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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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(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
Hilda Doolittle