A Quote by Edith Sitwell

[History is] that terrible mill in which sawdust rejoins sawdust. — © Edith Sitwell
[History is] that terrible mill in which sawdust rejoins sawdust.
Have you ever tried to split sawdust?
If you can eat sawdust without butter, you can be a success in the law.
Humor is a hole that lets the sawdust out of a stuffed shirt.
When I was kid, my uncle had a grocery store. I remember the smell of the sawdust on the floor.
I wanted to create a kind of substance by means of brush-work. But that is the kind of discovery which one makes gradually... Thus it was that I subsequently began to introduce sand, sawdust and metal filings into my pictures.
The fuel of the future is going to come from fruit like that sumach out by the road, or from apples, weeds, sawdust - almost anything.
Is it any wonder why Princes & Kings, Are clowns that caper in their sawdust rings, When ordinary people who are like you and me, Are the builders of their destiny...
Some were scattered about the ring, one or two went in the sawdust tub, one I spat out as I fell, and I am thundering sure I swallowed a couple
I've had my best times when trailing a Mainbocher evening gown across a sawdust floor. I've always loved high style in low company.
You're one third bad intentions,one third pure avarice,and one eighth sawdust.What's left,I'll credit,must be brains.
All the king's horses and all the king's men can't put the past together again. So let's remember: Don't try to saw sawdust.
It (suicide) became a possibility like Maybe when I grow up, I will be dead. Life was a cake that looked good on the bakery shelf but turned to sawdust and salt when I ate it.
It had grown darker as they talked, and the wind was sawing and the sawdust was whirling outside paler windows. The underlying churchyard was already settling into deep dim shade, and the shade was creeping up to the housetops among which they sat. "As if," said Eugene, "as if the churchyard ghosts were rising."
All men are just accumulations dolls stuffed with sawdust swept up from the trash heaps where all previous dolls had been thrown away.
For the mind is capable of dealing with only one kind of food; it lives, grows and is nourished upon ideas only; mere information is to it as a meal of sawdust to the body; there are no organs for the assimilation of the one more than of the other.
If you've ever done something you love and go do something you like, it's like chewing on sawdust.
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