Into the dark night Resignedly I go, I am not so afraid of the dark night As the friends I do not know, I do not fear the night above As I fear the friends below. — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
I only asked my friends to be friendly and polite, I found them indifferent and censorious; The one I left to silence, the other… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
“Wild creatures' eyes, the colonel said, Are innocent and fathomless And when I look at them I see That they are not aware of… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
“Raise from your bed of languor Raise from your bed of dismay Your friends will not come tomorrow As they did not come today… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
“There is a god in whom I do not believe Yet to this god my love stretches, This god whom I do not believe… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
So I fancy my Muse says, when I wish to die, Oh no, Oh no, we are not yet friends enough, And Virtue also… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
If a lady comes up to you and tells you that your dear mama is lying in a faint on the pavement round the… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
I like food, I like stripping vegetables of their skins, I like to have a slim young parsnip under my knife. — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
Death's not a separation or alteration or parting; it's just a one-handled door. — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
The flower and fruit of love are mine The ant, the fieldmouse and the mole — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
“Prate not to me of suicide, Faint heart in battle, not for pride I say Endure, but that such end denied Makes welcomer yet… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
It is an amiable part of human nature, that we should love our animals; it is even better to love them to the point… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
My Muse sits forlorn She wishes she had not been born She sits in the cold No word she says is ever told. — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
There are moments of despair that come sometimes, when night sets in and a white fog presses against the windows. Then our house changes… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
Fourteen-year-old, why must you giggle and dote, Fourteen-year-old, why are you such a goat? I'm fourteen years old, that is the reason, I giggle… — Stevie Smith Copy Share Image
