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D.H. Lawrence

[P]raise silence, & put flesh on every w All real living hurts as well as fulfils. Happiness comes when we have lived and have a respite for sheer forgetting. Happiness, in the vulgar sense, is just a holiday experience. The life-long happiness lies in being used by life; hurt by life, driven and goaded by… Continue reading D.H. Lawrence

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Anthology · British Culture · Classic · Collection · Compilation · English Literature · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Philip Larkin

Why did I dream of you last night?Now morning is pushing back hair with grey lightMemories strike home, like slaps in the face;Raised on elbow, I stare at the pale fogbeyond the window. So many things I had thought forgottenReturn to my mind with stranger pain:—Like letters that arrive addressed to someoneWho left the house… Continue reading Philip Larkin

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Blank Verse · British Culture · Dialogue · Drama · Dramaturgy · Elizabethan · English Literature · Excerpt · Fantasy · Fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Play · Quote · Theatre

William Shakespeare

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits andAre melted into air, into thin air:And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolveAnd, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind. We… Continue reading William Shakespeare

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Blank Verse · British Culture · Classic · Drama · Dramaturgy · Elizabethan · English Literature · Excerpt · Fiction · Historical Fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Play · Quote · Theatre

William Shakespeare

With fairest flowersWhilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,I’ll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lackThe flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose, norThe azured harebell, like thy veins, no, norThe leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,Out-sweeten’d not thy breath: the ruddock would,With charitable bill,–O bill, sore-shamingThose rich-left heirs that let their… Continue reading William Shakespeare

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British Culture · Classic · Collection · English Literature · Excerpt · Feminism · Fiction · Modernism · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Short Stories · Short Story

Virginia Woolf

The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight. — Virginia Woolf, from “The String Quartet,” Monday… Continue reading Virginia Woolf

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