All Hilda Doolittle Quotes
- War is a fevered god who takes alike maiden and king and clod.... Alike
- Dance until the earth dance. Dance
- 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 .… Bees
- 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… Already Broken
- The laying of fish on the embers, the taste of the fish, the feel of the texture of bread, the round and the half-loaf, the… Body
- remember the golden apple-trees; O, do not pity them, as you watch them drop one by one, for they fall exhausted, numb, blind but in… Apple
- ...if you do not even understand what words say, how can you expect to pass judgement on what words conceal? Conceal
- There's a black rose growing in your garden. Black
- Writing. Love is writing. Inspirational
- Words were her plague and words were her redemption. Inspirational
- She did not look at the daffodils. They didn't mean anything. She looked at the daffodils. She said, 'Thank you for the daffodils. Daffodil
- O do not weep, she says, for ages past I was and I endure Age
- Consider the birds. Be wise as serpents. Birds
- Sing and your hell is heaven, your heaven less hell. Heaven
- We have given until we have no more to give; alas, it was pity, rather than love, we gave; now having given all, let us… Alas
- But you were not living at all, and I was half-living, so where the years blight these others, we, who were not of the years,… All
- Soft are the hands of Love, but what soft hands clutched at the thorny ground, scratched like a small white ferret or foraging whippet or… Clutched
- War bent and kissed the forehead, that bright brow, ignored the chin and the sweet mouth, for that and the low laugh were his, Eros… Bent
- You are as gold as the half-ripe grain that merges to gold again. as white as the white rain.... Gold
- Squalor spreads its hideous length through the carts and the asses' feet, squalor coils and reopens and creeps under barrow and heap of refuse.... Asses