“ I am not eccentric. It's just that I am more alive than most people. I am an unpopular electric eel set in a pond of catfish. Edith Sitwell
“ Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. Edith Sitwell
“ 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 loveThat never till Time is doneWill… Edith Sitwell
“ Eccentricity is not, as some would 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 a… Edith Sitwell
“ Answers I kept my answers small and kept them near;Big questions bruised my mind but still I letSmall answers be a bullwark to my fear.The huge abstractions I kept from the light;Small things I handle… Edith Sitwell
“ I have often wished I had time to cultivate modesty...But I am too busy thinking about myself. Edith Sitwell
“ 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. Edith Sitwell
“ 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 paradi… Edith Sitwell
“ A great many people now reading and writing would be better employed in keeping rabbits. Edith Sitwell
“ I have taken this step because I want the discipline, the fire and the authority of the Church. I am hopelessly unworthy of it, but I hope to become worthy. Edith Sitwell
“ All day long you sit and sew,Stitch life down for fear it grow,Stitch life down for fear we guessAt the hidden ugliness.Dusty voice that throbs with heat,Hoping with your steel-thin beatTo put stitche… 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 Pekingese? Edith Sitwell
“ Solo For Ear-Trumpet The carriage brushes through the brightLeaves (violent jets from life to light);Strong polished speed is plunging, heavesBetween the showers of bright hot leavesThe window-glasses… Edith Sitwell
