Best 15 quotes of Mina Loy on MyQuotes

Another great illusion that woman must ... destroy . .. is the impurity of sex, the realisation in defiance of superstition that there is nothing impure in sex - except in the mental attitude toward it.

Fling yourself at life and let yourself feel what you do feel upon the very tick of the second; snatch the images of life that fly through the brain. If you are very frank with yourself and don't mind how ridiculous anything that comes to you may seem, you will have a chance of capturing the symbols of your direct reactions. Thus, you will, perhaps, find yourself reaching a heightened sense of awareness completely outside the realm of mundane experience.

If you want to realize yourselves all your pet illusions must be unmasked.

Life is only limited by our prejudices. Destroy them, and you cease to be at the mercy of yourself.

LOVE of others is the appreciation of one's self. MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you comprise mankind in your self-sympathy.

Poetry is prose bewitched, a music made of visual thoughts, the sound of an idea.

The feminist movement as at present instituted is Inadequate.

The flux of life is pouring its aesthetic aspect into your eyes, your ears - and you ignore it because you are looking for your canons of beauty in some sort of frame or glass case or tradition.

Women if you want to realise yourselves - you are on the eve of a devastating psychological upheaval - all your pet illusions must be unmasked - the lies of centuries have got to go - are you prepared for the Wrench?

It is not given to each of us To be desired.

LOVE the hideous in order to find the sublime core of it.

MAN is a slave only to his own mental lethargy.

Oh that's right Keep away from me Please give me a push Don't let me understand you Don't realise me Or we might tumble together Depersonalized Identical Into the terrific Nirvana Me you --- you --- me

The past has come apart events are vagueing the future is inexploitable

We might have coupled In the bed-ridden monopoly of a moment Or broken flesh with one another At the profane communion table Where wine is spill'd on promiscuous lips We might have given birth to a butterfly With the daily-news Printed in blood on its wings