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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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Hilda Doolittle
Face
Marble
Faces
Limbs
Eye
Mask
Glass
Glasses
Fixed
Balls
Magic

More quotes by 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.
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I testify to rainbow feathers, to the span of heaven and walls of colour, the colonnades of jasper.
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(Those women whom the distaff no longer claims nor spun cloth) driven made, mad, mad by Bacchus.
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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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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 . . .
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Ardent yet chill and formal, how I ache to tempt a chisel as a sculptor.
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
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Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?
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Love is a garment riven in the light that rises from Parnassus, showing the night is over.
Hilda Doolittle
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Luminous, unfearful high-priestesses, our fervour shall banish all evil.
Hilda Doolittle
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When the shingles hissed in the rain incendiary, other values were revealed to us
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There must be real gods see, the painted gods how fair!
Hilda Doolittle
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Not God with wine, nor death, nor hate for a cry, but God with a song
Hilda Doolittle
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For this beauty, beauty without strength, chokes out life.
Hilda Doolittle
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War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.
Hilda Doolittle
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The elixir of life, the philosopher's stone is yours if you surrender sterile logic, trivial reason.
Hilda Doolittle
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Maid of the luminous grey-eyes, Mistress of honey and marble implacable white thighs and Goddess, chaste daughter of Zeus.
Hilda Doolittle
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It is no madness to say you will fall, you great cities.
Hilda Doolittle
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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.
Hilda Doolittle
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Lovers may come and go, there was the memory of blood, the low call.
Hilda Doolittle