Geoffrey Hill Quotes

Public toilets have a duty to be accessible, poetry does not.

September fattens on vines. Roses flake from the wall. The smoke of harmless fires drifts to my eyes. This is plenty. This is more than enough.

We are difficult. Human beings are difficult. We’re difficult to ourselves, we’re difficult to each other.

Autumn resumes the land, ruffles the woods with smoky wings, entangles them.

Thus I grind to conclusion.

As estimated, you died. Things marched, sufficient, to that end. Just so much Zyklon and leather, patented terror, so many routine cries.

Platonic England, house of solitudes, rests in its laurels and its injured stone

Dig -- the mostly uncouth -- language of grace.

Evil is not good's absence but gravity'severlasting bedrock and its fatal chainsinert, violent, the suffrage of our days.

Who now would thrust enquiry on / Beyond necessity of desire?