Nothing is more wistful than the scent of lilac, nor more robust than its woody stalk, for we must remember that it is a tree as well as a flower, we must try not to forget this.— Stevie Smith
The most captivate Stevie Smith quotes that will activate your desire to change
I'm alive today, therefore I'm just as much a part of our time as everybody else. The times will just have to enlarge themselves to make room for me, won't they, and for everybody else.
Who is this that comes in grandeur, coming from the blazing East? This is he we had not thought of, this is he the airy Christ.
Life may be treacherous, but you can always depend on death.
I'll have your heart, if not by gift my knife Shall carve it out. I'll have your heart, your life.
Why does my muse only speak when she is uhnhappy? She does not, I only listen when I am unhappy.
There are moments of despair that come sometimes, when night sets in and a white fog presses against the windows. Then our house changes its shape, rears up and becomes a place of despair. Then fear and rage run simply--and the thought of Death as a friend. This is the simplest of thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.
The religion of Christianity Is mixed of sweetness and cruelty Reject this Sweetness, for she wears A smoky dress out of hell fires.
People who are always praising the past And especially the time of faith as best Ought to go and live in the Middle Ages And be burnt at the stake as witches and sages.
I like to see cats in movement. A galloping cat is a fine sight. See it cross the road in a streak, cursed by the drivers of motor cars and buses, dodging the butcher's bicycle, coming safe to the kerb and bellying under its home gate.
I may be smelly and I may be old, Rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools, But where my fish float by I bless their swimming, And I like the people to bathe in me especially women.
Fourteen-year-old, why must you giggle and dote, Fourteen-year-old, why are you such a goat? I'm fourteen years old, that is the reason, I giggle and dote in season.
Life in the [London] suburb is richer at the lower levels.
At these levels the people are not self-conscious at all, they are at liberty to be as eccentric as they please, they do not know that they are eccentric.
You must have some money if you are going to live simply.
It need not be much, but you must have some.
My Muse sits forlorn She wishes she had not been born She sits in the cold No word she says is ever told.
I like food, I like stripping vegetables of their skins, I like to have a slim young parsnip under my knife.
It is the privilege of the rich To waste the time of the poor To water with tears in secret A tree that grows in secret That bears fruit in secret That ripened falls to the ground in secret And manures the parent tree Oh the wicked tree of hatred and the secret The sap rising and the tears falling.
If a lady comes up to you and tells you that your dear mama is lying in a faint on the pavement round the corner, don't you believe her, don't have anything to do with her, do not go with her into the cab. It is the White Slave Traffic.
Truth is far and flat, and fancy is fiery;
and truth is cold, and people feel the cold, and they may wrap themselves against it in fancies that are fiery, but they should not call them facts; and, generally, poets do not; they are shrewd, they feel the cold, too, but they know a hawk from a handsaw, a fact from a fancy, as none knows better.
Into the dark night Resignedly I go, I am not so afraid of the dark night As the friends I do not know, I do not fear the night above As I fear the friends below.
A great artist ... takes what he did not make and makes of it something that only he can make.
It is an amiable part of human nature, that we should love our animals;
it is even better to love them to the point of folly, than not to love them at all.
Love is not love that wounded bleeds And bleeding sullies slow.
Come death within my hands and I Unto my love will go.
one never knows really how things are with other people, they just do always seem more spirited than oneself somehow.
I only asked my friends to be friendly and polite, I found them indifferent and censorious; The one I left to silence, the other to reproach: God send me over all such friends victorious.
See the cat at love, rolling with its sweetheart, up and over, with shriek and moan. But if a person comes by, they break away, sit separate upon a fence washing their faces - and might never have met at all.
Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning.
I was much further out than you thought, and not waving but drowning. I was much too far out all my life, And not waving but drowning.
Youth is an arithmetical statement of passing interest, each hour eats it up.
This Englishwoman is so refined, She has no bosom and no behind.
I made Man with too many faults. Yet I love him. And if he wishes, I have a home above for him.
Christianity in the suburb is cheerful.
The church is a centre of social activity and those who go to church need never be lonely.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.
Not Waving but Drowning Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.
Death's not a separation or alteration or parting; it's just a one-handled door.
Oh Lion in a peculiar guise, Sharp Roman road to Paradise, Come eat me up, I'll pay thy toll With all my flesh, and keep my soul.
As Nature is always careless and indifferent Who sees, who steps, means nothing and this is pretty.
My heart was full of softening showers, I used to swing like this for hours, I did not care for war or death, I was glad to draw my breath.
So I fancy my Muse says, when I wish to die, Oh no, Oh no, we are not yet friends enough, And Virtue also says: We are not yet friends enough.
All poetry has to do is to make a strong communication.
All the poet has to do is listen. The poet is not an important fellow. There will also be another poet.
I'm sorry to say my dear wife is a dreamer, and as she dreams she gets paler and leaner. Then be off to your Dream, with his fly-away hat, I stay with the girls who are happy and fat.
The world is come upon me, I used to keep it a long way off, But now I have been run over and I am in the hands of the hospital staff.
But one wants the idea of Death, you know, as something large and unknowable, something that allows a person to stretch himself out. Especially one wants it if one is tired. Or perhaps what one wants is simply a release from sensation, from all consciousness for ever.
My friendships, they are a very strong part of my life, they are as light as gossamer but also they are as strong as steel. And I cannot throw them off, nor altogether do with them or without them. And I love them at the point where they say: It is nice to see you again. And I love them too at the point when they say: Good-bye, come again soon. The rhythm of friendship is a very good rhythm.
Unpopular, lonely and loving, Elinor need not trouble, For if she were not so loving, She would not be so miserable.
Colours are what drive me most strongly.
O happy dogs of England, Bark well at errand boys, If you lived anywhere else, You would not be allowed to make such an infernal noise.
The human creature is alone in his carapace. Poetry is a strong way out.
If there wasn't death, I think you couldn't go on.
The sea was angry that day my friend, like an old man trying to send back soup at a deli.
Coleridge received the Person from Porlock And ever after called him a curse, Then why did he hurry to let him in? He could have hid in the house.