Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time. ― John Lubbock, The Use Of Life. (Ayer Co Pub, October 1979)
How pale the Princess is! Never have I seen her so pale. She is like the shadow of a white rose in a mirror of silver. ― Oscar Wilde, Salomé, (Dover Publications; Unabridged edition, August 14, 2002) Originally published 1891.
Dog-tired If she would come to me here Now the sunken swaths Are glittering paths To the sun, and the swallows cut clear Into the setting sun! if she came to me here! If she would come to me now, Before the last-mown harebells are dead; While that vetch-clump still burns red! Before all the… Continue reading D. H. Lawrence
It is not wise to find symbols in everything that one sees. It makes life too full of terrors. ― Oscar Wilde, Salomé, (Dover Publications; Unabridged edition, August 14, 2002) Originally published 1891.
The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. — Oscar Wilde, Salomé. (Dover Publications; Unabridged edition, August 14, 2002) Originally published 1891.
It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideal which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded. It looks as… Continue reading W. Somerset Maugham
You have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life … All the things that have deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it–tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really… Continue reading C. S. Lewis