The ghost of the heart of manred Cain Edith Sitwell More Quotes by Edith Sitwell More Quotes From Edith Sitwell Rhythm is one of the principal translators between dream and reality. Rhythm might be described as, to the world of sound, what light is to the world of sight. It shapes and gives new meaning. Rhythm was described by Schopenhauer as melody deprived of its pitch. Edith Sitwell lightdreamreality My poems are hymns of praise to the glory of life. Edith Sitwell hymnslifeart The trouble about most Englishwomen is that they will dress as if they had been a mouse in a previous incarnation, or hope to be one in the next. Edith Sitwell womennextdresses Tall windows show Infinity; And, hard reality, The candles weep and pry and dance Like lives mocked at by Chance. The rooms are vast as Sleep within; When once I ventured in, Chill Silence, like a surging sea, Slowly enveloped me. Edith Sitwell seasleepreality White as a winding sheet, Edith Sitwell viennapariswhite Virginia Woolf, I enjoyed talking to her, but thought nothing of her writing. I considered her 'a beautiful little knitter. Edith Sitwell virginiawritingbeautiful Art is magic, not logic. This craze for the logical spirit in irrational shape is part of the present harmful mania for uniformity. Edith Sitwell magicshapesart It is hardly respectable to be good nowadays. Edith Sitwell ethicsbe-goodintegrity The poet is a brother speaking to a brother of "a moment of their other lives" - a moment that had been buried beneath the dust of the busy world. Edith Sitwell dustbrotherworld I'm afraid I'm being an awful nuisance. Edith Sitwell nuisanceawfuldeath I wouldn't dream of following a fashion... how could one be a different person every three months? Edith Sitwell fashiondifferentdream People are usually made Dames for virtues I do not possess. Edith Sitwell damesvirtuepeople 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 hateheartlying 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 lightheartspring What an artist is for is to tell us what we see but do not know that we see. Edith Sitwell artistknowsart Still falls the rain - dark as the world of man, black as our loss - blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails upon the Cross. Edith Sitwell rainlossfall Eccentricity is not, as dull people would have us believe, a form of madness. It is often a kind of innocent pride, and the man of genius and the aristocrat are frequently regarded as eccentrics because genius and aristocrat are entirely unafraid of and uninfluenced by the opinions and vagaries of the crowd. Edith Sitwell I'm not the man to balk at a low smell, I not the man to insist on asphodel. This sounds like a He-fellow, don't you think? It sounds like that. I belch, I bawl, I drink. Edith Sitwell Why not be oneself That is the whole secret of a successful appearance. If one is a greyhound why try to look like a Pekinese Edith Sitwell I am an unpopular electric eel in a pool of catfish. Edith Sitwell unpopulari-amelectricpool
