A black cat among roses, phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon, the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with perfume. Amy Lowell More Quotes by Amy Lowell More Quotes From Amy Lowell Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in. Amy Lowell expression men art All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words. Amy Lowell reading dream book Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know. Amy Lowell mystery love-is facts When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness. Amy Lowell girlfriend wine love Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour. Amy Lowell butterfly flower wings I do not suppose that anyone not a poet can realize the agony of creating a poem. Every nerve, even every muscle, seems strained to the breaking point. The poem will not be denied; to refuse to write it would be a greater torture. It tears its way out of the brain, splintering and breaking its passage, and leaves that organ in the state of a jelly-fish when the task is done. Amy Lowell agony creating writing Poets are always the advance guard of literature; the advance guard of life. It is for this reason that their recognition comes so slowly. Amy Lowell recognition poet literature This is America, This vast, confused beauty, This staring, restless speed of loveliness, Mighty, overwhelming, crude, of all forms, Making grandeur out of profusion, Afraid of no incongruities, Sublime in its audacity, Bizarre breaker of moulds. Amy Lowell confused sublime america Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, Amy Lowell flower moon spring Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls. Amy Lowell beaks skulls hate Witches are moon-birds, Amy Lowell beautiful inspirational life Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart. Amy Lowell flower heart life I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it. Amy Lowell missing-someone tired missing-you I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul. Amy Lowell balance soul comfort Great emotion always tends to become rhythmic, and out of that tendency the forms of art have been evolved. Art becomes artificial only when the forms take precedence over the emotion. Amy Lowell tendencies emotion art Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity. Amy Lowell soul humanity fiction Art is like politics. Any theory carried too far ends in sterility, and freshness is only gained by following some other line. Amy Lowell lines theory art Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me,and drench me in loneliness. Amy Lowell being-lonely loneliness moon Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run. Amy Lowell bending flower running When trying to explain anything, I usually find that the Bible, that great collection of magnificent and varied poetry, has said it before in the best possible way. Amy Lowell said trying way
