All day long you sit and sew, Stitch life down for fear it grow, Stitch life down for fear we guess. At the hidden ugliness. Dusty voice that throbs with heat, Hoping with your steel-thin beat. To put stitches in my mind, Make it tidy, make it kind, You shall not: I'll keep it free. Though you turn earth, sky and sea. To a patchwork quilt to keep. Your mind snug and warm in sleep!
Edith SitwellAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: british
- Born: September 7, 1887
- Died: December 9, 1964
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It's the self that suffers, and there's a place where the self - ceases. I don't know how to say it. But I believe that the reality, the truth which I recognise in suffering as I don't in comfort and happiness - that the reality of pain is not pain. If you can get through it. If you can endure it all the way.
Ursula K. Le Guin