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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.

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
Hands
Decay
Love
Worn
World
Passed
Dust
Wind
Rest
Full
Head

More quotes by Ted Hughes

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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 was his own leftover, the spat-out scrag. He was what his brain could make nothing of.
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Nobody knew the Iron Man had fallen. Night passed.
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The inmost spirit of poetry, in other words, is at bottom, in every recorded case, the voice of pain – and the physical body, so to speak, of poetry, is the treatment by which the poet tries to reconcile that pain with the world.
Ted Hughes
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The jaws' hooked clamp and fangs Not to be changed at this date A life subdued to its instrument.
Ted Hughes
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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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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.
Ted Hughes
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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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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.
Ted Hughes
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The brassy wood-pigeons Bubble their colourful voices, and the sun Rises upon a world well-tried and old.
Ted Hughes
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You are who you choose to be.
Ted Hughes
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What’s writing really about? It’s about trying to take fuller possession of the reality of your life.
Ted Hughes
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But who is stronger than death? Me , evidently .
Ted Hughes
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What happens in the heart simply happens.
Ted Hughes
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What happened casually remains -
Ted Hughes
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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.
Ted Hughes
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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.
Ted Hughes
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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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The wolf is living for the earth.
Ted Hughes