Quotes by Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.

Book

Dream

Reading

All recurring joy is pain refined.

Joy

Pain

Refined

Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?

Eye

Inspirational

Life

Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.

Cancer

Progress

Writing

Even pain pricks to livelier living.

Pain

Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses All bent upon killing, because their “of courses” Are not quite the same.

Horse

Soldier

War

Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation.

Elation

Happiness

Stagnation

Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.

Blood

Coins

Pay

How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!

Art

Hard

Way

How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!

Emptiness

Rooms

Tick

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Agony

Arriving

Art

Beautiful

Belief

Bending

Blood

Book

Broken Heart

Cancer

Coins

Creating

Desire

Dream

Elation

Emptiness

Experience

Eye

Facts

Feet

Fire

Flower

Genius

Girlfriend

Giving

Gowns

Greed

Hands

Happiness

Hard

Heart

Horse

I Miss You

Inspirational

Intelligent

Joy

Life

Literature

Love

Love Is

Maturity

Men

Missing Someone

Missing You

Moles

Moon

Myopic

Mystery

Necks

Pain

The Future Blueprint

Tool

The Home Therapist: Anti Anxiety

Tool

The Autobiography

Tool

The Behaviour Diary

Tool

The Dating Diary

Tool

The Relationship Therapist

Tool

Quotes by Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.

All recurring joy is pain refined.

Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?

Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.

Even pain pricks to livelier living.

Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses All bent upon killing, because their “of courses” Are not quite the same.

Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation.

Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.

How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!

How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!

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Topics by Amy Lowell

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The Future Blueprint

The Home Therapist: Anti Anxiety

The Autobiography

The Behaviour Diary

The Dating Diary

The Relationship Therapist

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