The Darkling Thrush I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse… Continue reading Thomas Hardy
“O Memory, where is now my love, That rayed me as a god above?” “I saw him by an ageing shape Where beauty used to be; That his fond phantom lingers there Is only known to me.” — Thomas Hardy, from “I Have Lived With Shades,” Works of Thomas Hardy. (Delphi Classics; 8 edition, April… Continue reading Thomas Hardy
Words dazzle and deceive because they are mimed by the face. But black words on a white page are the soul laid bare. ― Guy de Maupassant
…but it is in despair that the most burning pleasures occur… ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground, W…but it is in despair that the most burning pleasures occur… ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground, White Nights, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, and Selections from The House of the Dead. (Signet; Reissue edition, November 2,… Continue reading Fyodor Dostoyevsky
But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope. ― George Eliot, Middlemarch. (Signet 2004) Originally published 1871.
Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around – nobody big, I mean – except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if… Continue reading J.D. Salinger
Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky