It is part of the poet's work to show each man what he sees but does not know he sees.
Edith SitwellWhat the reporters are like! They are mad with excitement at the thought of my approaching demise. Kind Sister Farquhar, my nurse, spends much of her time in throwing them downstairs. But one got in the other day, and asked me if I mind the fact that I must die.
Edith SitwellThe great sins and fires break out of me like the terrible leaves from the bough in the violent spring. I am a walking fire, I am all leaves.
Edith Sitwell