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Ruth Pitter
23quotes
Ruth Pitter
Full Name and Common Aliases
Ruth Pitter was a British poet, critic, and writer.
Birth and Death Dates
Born: November 29, 1897, in London, England, UK
Died: January 28, 1992, at the age of 94
Nationality and Profession(s)
Nationality: British
Professions: Poet, Critic, Writer
Early Life and Background
Ruth Pitter was born into a literary family. Her father was a bookseller and a writer, which may have influenced her own writing ambitions from an early age. She grew up in London and was educated at home before attending a convent school.
Major Accomplishments
Pitter's poetry career spanned over six decades. She published her first collection of poems in 1926, but it was her second collection that gained critical acclaim. Her work explored themes of nature, society, and the human condition. Pitter also worked as a critic for several publications, including The Criterion.
Notable Works or Actions
Some notable works by Ruth Pitter include:
_The Bridge to France_ (1931)
_A Trophy of Arms_ (1942)
* _The Bridge of Years_ (1955)
Her poetry collections often explored the relationship between nature and human society.
Impact and Legacy
Ruth Pitter's poetry had a significant impact on British literature. Her unique style, which blended elements of modernism with traditional forms, influenced many other poets of her time. Pitter also worked tirelessly as a critic and reviewer to promote emerging writers and shape the literary landscape of England.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
Ruth Pitter's legacy is built on two pillars: her innovative poetry and her dedication to literary criticism. Her work continues to be studied in schools and universities, and she remains an important figure in British literary history.
Quotes by Ruth Pitter

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What do we look for as reward? Some little sounds, and scents, and scenes A small hand darting strawberry-ward A woman’s aprons full of greens. The sense that we have brought to birth Out of the cold and heavy soil, The blessed fruits and flowers of earth Is large reward for our toil.

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One’s homesickness for Heaven finds at least an inn there; and it’s an inn on the right road.

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And I used to assemble the family to hear because I thought that they were so good that even from the point of view of enjoyment people shouldn’t miss them, and I got every word of his that I could, and I could see by hard argument there was only the one way for it.

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To win the trophy of enchanting grace: Ranks of Carnations, to all ladies dear, Of whose sweet taste I write approval here, For these pre-eminent myself I think, As long as you don’t overdue the pink.

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We go, in winter’s biting wind, On many a short-lived winter day, With aching back but willing mind To dig and double dig the clay.

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All in November’s soaking mist We stand and prune the naked tree, While all our love and interest Seem quenched in the blue-nosed misery.

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But the summits of poetry are mysteries; they are shiftingly veiled, and those who catch the glimpses see different aspects of the transcendental; but they have seen something, and they come down with the glory lingering on them.

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Poor comfort all comfort: once what the mouse had spared Was enough, was delight, there where the heart was at home

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The lily in splendor, the vine in her grace, The fox in the forest, all had their desire, As then I had mine, in the place that was happy and poor.

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To win the trophy of enchanting grace: Ranks of Carnations, to all ladies dear, Of whose sweet taste I write approval here, For these pre-eminent myself I think, As long as you don't overdue the pink.
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