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The Last Faint Spark In The Self-murdered Heart, The Wounds Of The Sad Uncomprehending Dark, The Wounds Of The Baited Bear,-- The Blind And Weeping Bear Whom The Keepers Beat On His Helpless Flesh . . . The Tears Of The Hunted Hare.

-Edith Sitwell

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The Last Faint Spark

Edith Sitwell

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The Last Faint Spark In The Self-murdered Heart, The Wounds Of The Sad Uncomprehending Dark, The Wounds Of The Baited Bear,-- The Blind And Weeping Bear Whom The Keepers Beat On His Helpless Flesh . . . The Tears Of The Hunted Hare.

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All Great Poetry Is Dipped In The Dyes Of The Heart.

If Certain Critics And Poetasters Had Their Way, 'ordinary Piety' And Its Child, Dullness, Would Be The Masters Of Poetry.

I Am An Unpopular Electric Eel Set In A Pond Of Goldfish.

What Is The Special Privilege Of Youth? It Is, I Think, The Power Of Looking Forward, The Firm Belief That The Future Holds Something That Is Worth Possessing, And That, Therefore, One Can Let The Present Moment Drop From One Without Regret And Without Fear.

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I Have Often Wished I Had Time To Cultivate Modesty... But I Am Too Busy Thinking About Myself.

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I Am One Of Those Unhappy Persons Who Inspire Bores To The Greatest Flights Of Art.

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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.

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When We Think Of Cruelty, We Must Try To Remember The Stupidity, The Envy, The Frustration From Which It Has Arisen.

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