Osbert Sitwell Quotes

Poetry is like fish: if it’s fresh, it’s good; if it’s stale, it’s bad; and if you’re not certain, try it on the cat.

A golf course outside a big town serves an excellent purpose in that it segregates, as though a concentration camp, all the idle and idiot well-to-do.

The city’s heat is like a leaden pall – Its lowered lamps glow in the midnight air Like mammoth orange-moths that flit and flare Through the dark tapestry of night. The tall Black houses crush the creeping beggars down.

Blood is that fragile scarlet tree we carry within us.

When Dr. Edith Sitwell and her brother, Sir Osbert Sitwell, were in Hollywood, they gave a reading of their poems. Sir Osbert suddenly turned to the audience and asked: “Can you hear me?” One man answered: “No.” Sir Osbert replied: “Then pay a little more attention.”

The artist, like the idiot, or clown, sits on the edge of the world, and a push may send him over it.