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literaturelove1: To discuss imagism (distilling a poem down to a concrete image) and Hilda Doolittle's Mid-Day "a split leaf crackles on the paved floor" (line 3) - dried, brown, crackly maple leaves for each student to experience in sensory ways. Extra points if the leaf remnants cleaned up :)

MarioDeFenza: Poet Hilda Doolittle , 1924 Photographed by Man Ray

literaturelove1: Today, in American Lit - the magnificent Carl Sandburg. The beginning of "imagism" with William Carlos Williams. Next time - Hilda Doolittle!

shenglisa: so for your arrogance I am broken at last, I who had lived unconscious, who was almost forgot; […] before I am lost, hell must open like a red rose for the dead to pass. Hilda Doolittle

Tullie23: The Pool by Hilda Doolittle Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea-fish. I cover you with my net. What are you—banded one?

arealmofwonder: An Imaginist poem this morning courtesy of Hilda Doolittle, channeling her inner Oread (a nymph of mountainous conifers).

hm_voss: “why write distinct letters when one single line will do?” -hilda doolittle probably

velvetg86947520: We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded; we have no map; possibly we will reach haven, heaven. Hilda Doolittle

mikloscsubak: Happy international women’s day to Kaffka Margit, my mother, Hilda Doolittle, the white Tārā. Inter alia!

Casmilus: Whilst admiring the radical avant-garde technique and groundbreaking subject matter of "Borderline" (1930), let's also recognise Hilda Doolittle does the worst acting by any writer on screen, worse than Truman Capote in "Murder By Death"

PhilGennusoArts: Sea Rose Phil Gennuso Arts My illustration for a poem "Sea Rose" by H. Doolittle (1886-1961) You can read the poem and my brief writeup here if you like :

BDR_Photography: forever; remember, O Sword, you are the younger brother, the latter-born, your Triumph, however exultant, must one day be over, in the beginning was the Word ~Hilda Doolittle (The Walls Do Not Fall) Those who draw the sword shall perish by the sword. But the Word lives on forever

stephanirod__: I keep the law, I hold the mysteries true, I am the vine, the branches, you and you. The mysteries remain, Hilda Doolittle.

Hilda_Doolittle: As who would say (in a dream), "I send you this, who left the blue veins of your throat unkissed."

Hilda_Doolittle: Like a bird out of our hand, like a light out of our heart, you are gone.

LRB: ‘As a writer and an analysand, H.D. understood herself to be shaping and sustaining her “own LEGEND”. She was quite at home with Keats’s idea that a “life of any worth is a continual allegory”.’ Maureen N. McLane on Hilda Doolittle:

Daniel_Red_Eire: Hilda Doolittle by Man Ray, 1924

Hilda_Doolittle: We are voyagers, discoverers of the not-known, the unrecorded; we have no map; possibly we will reach haven, heaven.

Hilda_Doolittle: Pompeii has nothing to teach us, we know crack of volcanic fissure, slow flow of terrible lava, pressure on heart, lungs, the brain about to burst its brittle case.

Hilda_Doolittle: There is a spell, for instance, in every sea-shell.

Hilda_Doolittle: I escaped, I explored rose-thorn forest, was rain-swept down the valley of a leaf.

Hilda_Doolittle: Gods, goddesses wear the winged head-dress of horns, as the butterfly antennae, or the erect king-cobra crest to show how the worm turns.

literaturelove1: The light beats upon me. I am startled— a split leaf crackles on the paved floor— I am anguished—defeated. Hilda Doolittle alternates the actions of nature with the speaker's inner state brilliantly in Midday.

IarkStu: HD in London: When Imagism arrived | Poetry | The Guardian

lacancircle: Fine poets do psychoanalysis: So I may say, “I died of living, having lived one hour” So they may say, “she died soliciting illicit fervour” So you may say, “Greek flower Greek ecstasy reclaims for ever one who died following intricate song’s lost measure” HD Hilda Doolittle

lacancircle: Sigmund Freud, photographed by HD, circa 1934. Later Hilda Doolittle wrote ‘Tribute to Freud’, including: “The Professor said he wanted me to feel at home (at Berggasse 19). His surroundings and interests seem to derive from my mother rather than from my father, and yet ...

Nishant73047536: Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea-fish. I cover you with my net. What are you - banded one? 【Hilda Doolittle】

joseph_gaglione: O beautiful white land, olives and wild anemones and violet mingled among the shale and purple wings of the little winter butterflies say , here Psyche, the soul, lies. - H.D. (Hilda Doolittle)

lacancircle: “I cannot classify the living content of our talks together by recounting them in a logical or textbook manner. It was, as Freud had said of my grandfather, ‘an atmosphere.’ ... ” H.D. (Hilda Dolittle), Tribute to Freud

MarioDeFenza: Hilda Doolittle photographed by Man Ray, 1924

CleaverMagazine: “..not only transcends boundaries in historical terms, through its feminist exploration of queerness and desire, but also in a manner that is itself timeless” Aalia Jagwani reviews HERMIONE by Hilda Doolittle (H.D.):

yougotpawd: “Ah love is bitter and sweet, but which is more sweet the bitterness or the sweetness, none has spoken it” ~ Hilda Doolittle

kalos_kat: "My discoveries are not primarily a heal-all. My discoveries are the basis for a very grave philosophy. There are very few who understand this, there are very few who are capable of understanding this." -Sigmund Freud as quoted by Hilda Doolittle in 'Tribute to Freud'

arsetechnica: Work isn’t working so call HD, spend the hours on hold reading Hilda Doolittle - the HD that always works

RosaJuritz: such as this small section detailing a fraction of the love life of HD (hilda doolittle) wow!

Dana_Krystle: circumspect (SIR-kum-spekt). Prudent, cautious; considering from all sides. “I smiled, / I waited, / I was CIRCUMSPECT; / O never, never, never write that I / missed life or loving.”—Hilda Doolittle, American poet and memoirist

NoreenMasud: Frances Gregg on Hilda Doolittle (H.D.), her ex-lover: ‘The only conversation with Hilda that I remember with almost verbatim vividness was on the subject of woollen combinations.’

AISelection: AI Art Generator Reads Poetry — Hilda Doolittle

nya_violetrose: In: hilda doolittle, the labyrinth (ft. Bowie)

Patbrdh: remember the golden apple-trees; O, do not pity them, as you watch them drop one by one, for they fall exhausted, numb, blind but in certain ecstasy, for theirs is the hunger for Paradise... Hilda Doolittle

Six18sFoundry: 1. Helen may have been in Egypt not Troy (different long story). 2. H.D. is not a myth. 3. Hilda Doolittle was from Bethlehem, PA.

timothygrey: maybe read hedgehog by hilda doolittle

ScottAndPark: Lawrence, Marianne Moore, Hilda Doolittle, and T.S. Eliot.  The world is a better place because he was in it and feels the loss since he has left it.

Arya11706032: Man Ray. Hilda Doolittle,1924.

BDSixsmith: You can understand why Hilda Doolittle called herself "HD" because "Hilda Doolittle" sounds like a parody of a poet.

Antilogicalism: A literary love triangle. In the summer of 1910, things got complicated among Hilda Doolittle, Ezra Pound, and Frances Gregg by , October 22nd 2022

Jeremy_boypoet: Sheltered Garden by Hilda Doolittle

WritingLife_b: H.D.'s Art of Failure (The New Yorker) Hilda Doolittle, destined for fame as the poet H.D., was fifteen years old when, at a Hallow... Add your highlights:

mgeorg11: from 'Strophe' by H. D. (Hilda Doolittle)

lemezma: Never More Will The Wind by Hilda Doolittle - Funeral Poem

ivressesdhier: Hilda Doolittle, aka H.D. (1886-1961) - Helen in Egypt - 1952 to 1955 you say, I could not see her eyes across the field of battle, I could not see their light shimmering as light on the changeable sea? all things would change but never the glance she exchanged with me.

amico: Harley Davidson’s H. D. but it’s Hilda Doolittle

iTanwirr: Ah love is bitter and sweet, but which is more sweet the bitterness or the sweetness, none has spoken it. ◆ Hilda Doolittle

HappyinBlue1208: "before I am lost, hell must open like a red rose for the dead to pass."

Kenneth_Englyn2: The Pool - H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) Are you alive? I touch you You quiver like a sea-fish I cover you with my net What are you - banded one

PullTheShade3: 1/1 Evening consists of a traditional chandelier made by the well-known Muranese manufacturer Galliano Ferro. A computer program causes the chandelier’s lights to flash in Morse code, spelling out on the video monitor the text of the 1916 poem “Evening” by Hilda Doolittle.

PullTheShade3: Hilda Doolittle was born in 1886 in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and grew up in Upper Darby. Writing under the pen name H.D., her work as a writer spanned five decades of the 20th century (1911-1961)

vvenusinfleurs: Hilda Doolittle

ingo_don: — Hilda Doolittle (10/9/1886 - 27/9/1961) us-am. poet … —

ingo_don: — Hilda Doolittle (10/9/1886 - 27/9/1961) us-am. poet … —

ingo_don: —— Hilda Doolittle (10/9/1886-27/9/1961) "The Mysteries Remain The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed-time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass, I multiply, renew and bless Bacchus in the vine; I hold the law, I keep the mysteries true, … —

melodeeblueth: LEO hilda doolittle, the garden

BDR_Photography: "ruin everywhere ... yet as the fallen roof leaves the sealed room open to the air, so; through our desolation, thoughts stir, inspiration stalks us through gloom" Hilda Doolittle, The Walls Do Not Fall

hm_voss: —Hilda Doolittle, 1961

ThomasSQC: Portrait of Hilda Doolittle circa 1922, attributed to Man Ray.

Orgetorix: Timeless Correspondences: Hilda Doolittle was born in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, in 1886 and died in Zurich in 1961, but for the duration of both world wars she was a Londoner—barely even leaving the city for the comparatively safer countryside.

zarandillo: Man Ray H.D. (Hilda Doolittle, dite) vers 1925

zarandillo: Oread Whirl up, sea— Whirl your pointed pines. Splash your great pines On our rocks. Hurl your green over us— Cover us with your pools of fir. Hilda Doolittle (H.D.)

AmericanStudier: Long, long ago I thought my second book was going to be about American Modernism, & I read pretty much all of H.D. She deserves a far greater place in our collective memories of that era, & I'd put her along Williams as the best American Imagists.

MarkJMitchellSF: Happy 136th to the 11th Muse, H.D.

ScottAndPark: Happy 136th Birthday Hilda Doolittle A thread ⬇️

ScottAndPark: Today is the 136th birthday of the poet Hilda Doolittle. Ahead of her time, her popularity only really started to climb a decade after her death. The world is a better place because she was in it and still feels the loss that she has left.

ScottAndPark: NAME: Hilda Doolittle DATE OF BIRTH: 10-Sep-1886 PLACE OF BIRTH: Bethlehem, PA DATE OF DEATH: 27-Sep-1961 PLACE OF DEATH: Zürich, Switzerland CAUSE OF DEATH: Stroke REMAINS: Cremated, Nisky Hill Cemetery, Bethlehem, PA

Book_Addict: Happy birthday to writer and poet H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) (September 10, 1886), author of "Bid Me to Live" (1960) and many other works.

dean_frey: Why is Sigmund Freud in this thread celebrating the birthday of the Bethlehem, Pennsylvania-born poet H. D.? It's because Hilda Doolittle took this photo of Freud in his study at Berggasse 19, Vienna, with his chow Jofi, c. 1937

ingo_don: Hilda Doolittle, better known by her initials H. D. (Bethlehem/Pens. 10/9/1886 – 27/9/1961, Zurich) us-am. poet, writer & chronicler. …

chaven: "Words were her plague and words were her redemption."— Hilda Doolittle, born on this date in 1886

cowboycoleridge: We don’t have to know, only to be: let go the jumble of worn words, reason and vanity. - H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) Star by Day.

cowboycoleridge: For one moment seek a lesser beauty and a lesser grace, but you will find no peace in the end save in her presence. - H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) Amaranth.

cowboycoleridge: Words were her plague and words were her redemption. - Hilda Doolittle

LiteraryVienna: “I watch the white stars darken; the day comes and the white stars dim and lessen and the lights fade in the city.” H. D. Hilda Doolittle * September 10, 1886

InadeBree: ‘… if you do not even understand what words say, how can you expect to pass judgement on wat words conceal.’ - Hilda Doolittle (H.D.)

alipinkney: Gonna pronounce PhD like we do Hilda Doolittle’s initials

zarandillo: Photographic portrait of American writer Hilda 'H.D.' Doolittle (1886–1961), taken by Man Ray circa 1917.

johnstonglenn: Novelist and poet Bryher was born Annie Winifred Ellerman OTD in 1894. She thought James Joyce’s work "marked the end⁠—not the beginning⁠—of literature, or the novel, as all previous generations had known it," according to Hilda Doolittle biographer Barbara Guest.

CurvesAndNerves: "It was easy enough to bend them to my wish, it was easy enough to alter them with a touch, but you adrift on the great sea, how shall I call you back?" Circe - Hilda Doolittle

lacancircle: Sigmund Freud in his Berggasse 19 study and amongst his loves: Jofi, his books, his antiquities, his Persian rugs, and his work. Pic credit: HD, Hilda Doolittle, poet, author of 'Tribute to Freud', 1956, his analysand and his friend.

Hilda_Doolittle: Over me the wind swirls. I have stood on your portal and I know— you are further than this, still further on another cliff.

Hilda_Doolittle: But you have waited, were sea-grass tangles with shore-grass.

nonchalantly_: Ezra Pound on Hilda Doolittle

nya_violetrose: Once again making my drunk friends discuss hilda doolittle

nya_violetrose: My lord and savior hilda doolittle

nya_violetrose: I will spend the rest of my life (senior essay, masters, and PhD thesis) discussing hilda doolittle

Hilda_Doolittle: The reddest rose unfolds.

DustinC74706412: loving HD's end to torment, it would make a good film, but who would direct, and who would play Hilda Doolittle, who would play Ezra Pound

Hilda_Doolittle: At least I have the flowers of myself, and my thoughts, no god can take that; I have the fervour of myself for a presence and my own spirit for light.

Hilda_Doolittle: Before I am lost, hell must open like a red rose for the dead to pass.

adrianmckinty: for everyone in the UK and Ireland today, a poem from HD (Hilda Doolittle) called Heat

PatchLimb: ‘Quote of the Day’: a poem “O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air— fruit cannot fall into heat that presses up and blunts the points of pears and rounds the grapes.” - from ‘Heat’ by Hilda Doolittle

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