Amy Lowell

All books are either dreams or swords.

— Amy Lowell

For books are more than books, they are the life, the very heart and core of ages past, the reason why men lived and worked and died, the essence and quintessence of their lives.

— Amy Lowell

Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.

— Amy Lowell

Moon! Moon! am prone before you. Pity me, and drench me in loneliness.

— Amy Lowell

Even Pain pricks to livelier living.

— Amy Lowell

A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.

— Amy Lowell

Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.

— Amy Lowell

May is lilac here in New England, May is a thrush singing "Sun up!" on a tip-top ash-tree, May is white clouds behind pine-trees Puffed out and marching upon a blue sky. May is a green as no other, May is much sun through small leaves, May is soft earth, And apple-blossoms, And windows open to a South wind.

— Amy Lowell

If failure, then another long beginning. / Why hope, / Why think that Spring must bring relenting.

— Amy Lowell