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Amy Lowell

  • American poet
  • Born February 9, 1874
  • Died May 12, 1925

Amy Lawrence Lowell (February 9, 1874 – May 12, 1925) was an American poet of the imagist school from Brookline, Massachusetts. She posthumously won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1926.


Take everything easy and quit dreaming and brooding and you will be well guarded from a thousand evils.




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




You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.




Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.




Let us be of cheer, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.




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




Youth condemns; maturity condones.




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




I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink drops, and posting it. And I scald alone, here, under the fire of the great moon.




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




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




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




In science, read by preference the newest works. In literature, read the oldest. The classics are always modern.




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



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