A Quote by Hilda Doolittle

The quivering
of Psyche's butterflies. — © Hilda Doolittle
The quivering of Psyche's butterflies.
O beautiful white land, olives and wild anemone and violet mingled among the shale, and purple wings of little winter-butterflies say, here Psyche, the soul, lies.
Jung even asserted that he would have no objection to regarding the psyche as a quality of matter and matter as a concrete aspect of the psyche, provided that the psyche was understood to be the collective unconscious.
We shall probably get nearest to the truth if we think of the conscious and personal psyche as resting upon the broad basis of an inherited and universal psychic disposition which is as such unconscious, and that our personal psyche bears the same relation to the collective psyche as the individual to society.
Nerves and butterflies are fine - they're a physical sign that you're mentally ready and eager. You have to get the butterflies to fly in formation, that's the trick.
It is all too common for caterpillars to become butterflies and then to maintain that in their youth they had been little butterflies. Maturation makes liars of us all.
For me, my rule in this industry is I've got to listen to my butterflies. So if I got butterflies, then those are the scripts I go after.
I only ask to be free. The butterflies are free. Mankind will surely not deny to Harold Skimpole what it concedes to the butterflies.
Adding wings to caterpillars does not create butterflies. It creates awkward and dysfunctional caterpillars. Butterflies are created through transformation.
I used to psyche myself out. Only, back then, we didn't know the word 'psyche.'
You know those adages about smelling the roses and chasing butterflies? The markets are my butterflies and my roses.
Don't waste your time chasing butterflies. Mend your garden, and the butterflies will come.
Prizes are like butterflies, colorful butterflies that fly away. I don't believe in prizes much.
The depth of exploration of the male psyche and the female psyche is uneven. I see further, deeper renderings of what it means to be a man.
I used to get butterflies when I'd see big dudes. I don't get butterflies no more.
I'm saying that the depth of exploration of the male psyche and the female psyche is uneven. I see further, deeper renderings of what it means to be a man.
A drunk man, staggering and mindless, must be led home by his son, so wet is his psyche... Water brings death to the psyche, as earth brings death to water... The psyche lusts to be wet.
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