Edith Sitwell Quotes

For earth and sea
And my heart were one

The public will believe anything, so long as it is not founded on truth.

I am an unpopular electric eel in a pool of catfish.

The winter, the animal sleep of the earth is over
And in the warmth of the affirming sun
All beings, beasts, men planets, waters, move
Freed from the imprisoning frost, acclaim their love
That is the light of the sun.

The rhythms of our lives
Are those of the ripening, dying of the seasons

My personal hobbies are reading, listening to music, and silence.

After the long and portentous eclipse of the patient sun
The sudden spring began

Vulgarity is, in reality, nothing but a modern, chic, pert descendant of the goddess Dullness.

Oh how the Vacancy
Laughed at them rushing by.
"Turn again, flesh and brain,
Only yourselves again!
How far above the ape
Differing in each shape,
You with your regular
Meaningless circles are!"

Answers

I kept my answers small and kept them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bullwark to my fear.

The huge abstractions I kept from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.

But the big answers clamoured to be moved Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.

Even when all small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, still I hear
Big answers striving for their overthrow.

And all the great conclusions coming near

Hot water is my native element. I was in it as a baby, and I have never seemed to get out of it ever since.

And your arms and your breasts are my Rivers of Life

Why not be oneself? That is the whole secret of a successful appearance. If one is a greyhound, why try to look like a Pekingese?

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

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us —