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I fear no man, no woman flower does not fear bird, insect nor adder.
Hilda Doolittle
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Hilda Doolittle
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More quotes by Hilda Doolittle
The things I have are nameless, old and true they may not be named few may live and know.
Hilda Doolittle
Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
Hilda Doolittle
The whole white world is ours.
Hilda Doolittle
Light threatens, is active, is gone, so it is with a song.
Hilda Doolittle
For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
Hilda Doolittle
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
Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
Hilda Doolittle
I will be free, no lover's kiss to bind me to earth, no bliss of love to counteract actual bliss.
Hilda Doolittle
(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
Hilda Doolittle
Lift up our eyes to you? no, God, we stare and stare, upon a nearer thing that greets us here, Death, violent and near.
Hilda Doolittle
In my garden the winds have beaten the ripe lilies in my garden, the salt has wilted the first flakes of young narcissus.
Hilda Doolittle
Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell.
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
I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.
Hilda Doolittle
Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
Hilda Doolittle
Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
Hilda Doolittle
When the shingles hissed in the rain incendiary, other values were revealed to us
Hilda Doolittle
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
There's a black rose growing in your garden.
Hilda Doolittle
Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
Hilda Doolittle