Edith Sitwell Quotes About Heart

Quotes about: Heart

• But I saw the little-Ant men as they ran
  Carrying the world's weight of the world's filth
  And the filth in the heart of Man--
  Compressed till those lusts and greeds had a greater heat
  than that of the Sun.

  Edith Sitwell

  Heart, Men, Evil

  Dame Edith Sitwell (1952). “Selected Poems”

• Poetry ennobles the heart and the eyes, and unveils the meaning of all things upon which the heart and the eyes dwell. It discovers the secret rays of the universe, and restores to us forgotten paradises.

  Edith Sitwell

  Heart, Eye, Secret

• Said the Sun to the Moon-'When you are but a lonely white crone, And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood, Remember only this of our hopeless love That never till Time is done Will the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one

  Edith Sitwell

  Lonely, Kings, Heart

  Dame Edith Sitwell (1952). “Selected Poems”

• Our hearts seemed safe in our breasts and sang to the Light The marrow in the bone We dreamed was safe. . . the blood in the veins, the sap in the tree Were springs of Deity.

  Edith Sitwell

  Spring, Heart, Light

  Dame Edith Sitwell (1952). “Selected Poems”

• The living blind and seeing Dead together lie As if in love . . . There was no more hating then, And no more love; Gone is the heart of Man.

  Edith Sitwell

  Hate, Lying, Heart

  Dame Edith Sitwell (1952). “Selected Poems”

• All great poetry is dipped in the dyes of the heart.

  Edith Sitwell

  Heart, Poetry, Great Poet

• The ghost of the heart of manred Cain
  And the more murderous brain
  Of Man, still redder Nero that conceived the death
  Of his mother Earth, and tore
  Her womb, to know the place where he was conceived.

  Edith Sitwell

  Mother, Heart, Men

  Dame Edith Sitwell (1952). “Selected Poems”

• The last faint spark
  In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending
  dark,
  The wounds of the baited bear,--
  The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
  On his helpless flesh . . . the tears of the hunted hare.

  Edith Sitwell

  Heart, Dark, Self

  Dame Edith Sitwell (1952). “Selected Poems”

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