Quotes from bishop elizabeth iii

Topography displays no favorites; North's as near as West. More delicate than the historians' are the map-makers' colors.

On the unbreathing sides of hills they play, a specklike girl and boy, alone, but near a specklike house. The sun's suspended eye blinks casually, and then they wade gigantic waves of light and shade. A dancing yellow spot, a pup, attends them.

Costume and custom are complex. The headgear of the other sex inspires us to experiment.

I'd like to be a painter most, I think. I never really sat down and said to myself, I'm going to be a poet. Never in my life. I'm still surprised that people think I am.

I never wanted to teach in my life.... I don't believe in teaching poetry at all, but that's what they want one to do. You see so many poems every week, you just lose all sense of judgment.

It was cold and windy, scarcely the day to take a walk on that long beach Everything was withdrawn as far as possible, indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken, seabirds in ones or twos. The rackety, icy, offshore wind numbed our faces on one side; disrupted the formation of a lone flight of Canada geese; and blew back the low, inaudible rollers in upright, steely mist.

Love with his gilded bow and crystal arrows Has slain us all, Has pierced the English sparrows Who languish for each other in the dust, While from their bosoms, puffed with hopeless lust, The red drops fall.

But surely it would have been a pity not to have seen the trees along this road, really exaggerated in their beauty, not to have seen them gesturing like noble pantomimists, robed in pink.

Heaven is not like flying or swimming, but has something to do with blackness and a strong glare.

When you write my epitaph, you must say I was the loneliest person who ever lived.

But he sleeps on the top of his mast with his eyes closed tight. The gull inquired into his dream, which was, "I must not fall. The spangled sea below wants me to fall. It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all."

Ports are necessities, like postage stamps or soap, but they seldom seem to care what impressions they make.

Here is a coast; here is a harbor; here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery: impractically shaped and--who knows?--self-pitying mountains, sad and harsh beneath their frivolous greenery.