Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. It is no season in which to wander the world as if one were the wind blowing aimlessly along the streets without a place to rest, without food, and without time meaning anything to one, just as time means nothing to the wind.
Edith SitwellI may say that I think greed about poetry is the only permissible greed - it is, indeed, unavoidable.
Edith SitwellBy the time I was eleven years old, I had been taught that nature, far from abhorring a Vacuum, positively adores it.
Edith Sitwell