Perhaps — I want the old days back again and they’ll never come back, and I am haunted by the memory of them and of the world falling about my ears. — Margaret Mitchell, Gone With The Wind. (Grand Central Publishing; Reprint edition April 1, 1999) Originally published 1936. Advertisements
Presume not that I am the thing I was. — William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part 2. Act V Scene v
Nothing lives long Only the earth and mountains — Dee Brown, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West. (Holt Paperbacks; 30th Anniversary edition January 23, 2001) Originally published 1970.
All great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage. ― William Bradford
For once the disease of reading has laid upon the system it weakens it so that it falls an easy prey to that other scourge which dwells in the inkpot and festers in the quill. The wretch takes to writing. — Virginia Woolf, Orlando. (Penguin Classic; Abridged edition, October 3, 2000) Originally published October 11th… Continue reading Virginia Woolf
The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to… Continue reading Helen Bevington
I cannot capture your grace in words; I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you. — John Keats, in a letter to Fanny Brawne dated 5 Novemeber 1820