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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
Casts
Pike
Held
Stilled
Depth
Nightfall
England
Dared
Deep
Legendary
Past
Stir
Immense
Cast

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What happens in the heart simply happens.
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What happened casually remains -
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The jaws' hooked clamp and fangs Not to be changed at this date A life subdued to its instrument.
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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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So the self under the eye lies, Attendant and withdrawn.
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You are who you choose to be.
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The wolf is living for the earth.
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The Bush administration doesn't particularly like public participation. It makes them look bad.
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The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed, And my head, worn out with love, at rest In my hands, and my hands full of dust.
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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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where are the gods the gods hate us the gods have run away the gods have hidden in holes the gods are dead of the plague they rot and stink too there never were any gods there’s only death
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He could not stand. It was not That he could not thrive, he was born With everything but the will – That can be deformed, just like a limb. Death was more interesting to him. Life could not get his attention.
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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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The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.
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Applause is the beginning of abuse
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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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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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I shall also take you forth and carve our names together in a yew tree, haloed with stars.
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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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