Quotes from Kathleen Raine

Nature is the common, universal language, understood by all.

And see the peaceful trees extendtheir myriad leaves in leisured dance—they bear the weight of sky and cloudupon the fountain of their veins.

For [W. B.] Yeats magic was not so much a kind of poetry as poetry a kind of magic, and the object of both alike was evocation of energies and knowledge from beyond normal consciousness.

Of all the arts the living of a life is perhaps the greatest; to live every moment of life with the same imaginative commitment as the poet brings to a special field.

Being a poet is not a job or a profession but a way of life.

Intent on one great love, perfect, Requited and for ever, I missed love's everywhere Small presence, thousand-guised.

And see the peaceful trees extend their myriad leaves in leisured dance— they bear the weight of sky and cloud upon the fountain of their veins.

Whiteness of moonlight builds a house that is not there

The icon is transparent as a representation of the special reality it depicts; an idol replaces and obscures that reality ... but the difference between icon and idol is purely subjective.

For [W. B.] Yeats magic was not so much a kind of poetry as poetry a kind of magic, and the object of both alike was evocation of energies and knowledge from beyond normal consciousness.

Because I see these mountains they are brought low, because I drink these waters they are bitter, because I tread these black rocks they are barren, because I have found these islands they are lost; Upon seal and seabird dreaming their innocent world my shadow has fallen.

Within the ring there lies an O, Within the O there looks an eye, In the eye there swims a sea, And in the sea reflected sky, And in the sky there shines the sun, Within the sun a bird of gold.

I've read all the books but One only remains sacred: this volume of wonders, open always before my eyes

Let my body sweat Let snakes torment my breast My eyes be blind, ears deaf, hands distraught Mouth parched, uterus cut out, Belly slashed, back lashed, Tongue slivered into thongs of leather Rain stones inserted in my breasts, Head severed, If only the lips may speak, If only the god will come.

Those fields of childhood, tall Meadow-grass and flowers small, The elm whose dusky leaves Patterned the sky with dreams innumerable And labyrinthine vein and vine And wandering tendrils green, Have grown a seed so small A single thought contains them all

Not this or that But all is amiss, That I have done, And I have seen Sin and sorrow Befoul the world - Release me, death, Forgive, remove From place and time The trace of all That I have been.

I do not know Whether I spoke or heard The word That fills all silence.

I couldn't claim that I have never felt the urge to explore evil, but when you descend into hell you have to be very careful.

Sensing us, the trees tremble in their sleep, The living leaves recoil before our fires, Baring to us war-charred and broken branches, And seeing theirs, we for our own destruction weep.

The work of the artist is to heal the soul.