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Stilled legendary depth: It was as deep as England. It held Pike too immense to stir, so immense and old That past nightfall I dared not cast.

Ted Hughes

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Ted Hughes
Age: 68 †
Born: 1930
Born: August 17
Died: 1998
Died: October 28
Astrologer
Author
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
Translator
Writer
Edward James Hughes
Ted Hughes
England
Dared
Deep
Legendary
Past
Stir
Immense
Cast
Casts
Pike
Held
Stilled
Depth
Nightfall

More quotes by Ted Hughes

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It took the whole of Creation To produce my foot, my each feather: Now I hold Creation in my foot. Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly - I kill where I please because it is all mine. There is no sophistry in my body: My manners are tearing off heads - The allotment of death.
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But who is stronger than death? Me , evidently .
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Applause is the beginning of abuse
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I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed. Inaction, no falsifying dream Between my hooked head and hooked feet: Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.
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The Iron Man came to the top of the cliff. How far had he walked? Nobody knows. Where did he come from? Nobody knows. How was he made? Nobody knows. Taller than a house the Iron Man stood at the top of the cliff, at the very brink, in the darkness.
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The wolf is living for the earth.
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Haven’t you heard of the music of the spheres?” asked the dragon. “It’s the music that space makes to itself. All the spirits inside all the stars are singing. I’m a star spirit. I sing too. The music of the spheres is what makes space so peaceful.
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The Shell The sea fills my ear with sand and with fear. You may wash out the sand, but never the sound of the ghost of the sea that is haunting me.
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I shall also take you forth and carve our names together in a yew tree, haloed with stars.
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The Bush administration doesn't particularly like public participation. It makes them look bad.
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Nobody wanted your dance, Nobody wanted your strange glitter, your floundering Drowning life and your effort to save yourself, Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil, Looking for something to give.
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This house has been far out at sea all night, The woods crashing through darkness, the booming hills, Winds stampeding the fields under the window Floundering black astride and blinding wet Till day rose then under an orange sky The hills had new places, and wind wielded Blade-light, luminous black and emerald, Flexing like the lens of a mad eye.
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Fishing provides that connection with the whole living world. It gives you the opportunity of being totally immersed, turning back into yourself in a good way. A form of meditation, some form of communion with levels of yourself that are deeper than the ordinary self.
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The sea cries with its meaningless voice, Treating alike its dead and its living
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He was his own leftover, the spat-out scrag. He was what his brain could make nothing of.
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So the self under the eye lies, Attendant and withdrawn.
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What’s writing really about? It’s about trying to take fuller possession of the reality of your life.
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You are who you choose to be.
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What happens in the heart simply happens.
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Do as you like with me. I'm your parcel. I have only our address on me. Open me, or readdress me.
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