Той живееше в романс, едновременно вулгарен и изтънчен, тъкмо романсът беше една от системите, на които беше подвластен, тъй като за добро или зло - и рано или късно - почти всеки обитател на западния...
[Loki] was beautiful, that was always affirmed, but his beauty was hard to fix or to see, for he was always glimmering, flickering, melting, mixing, he was the shape of a shapeless flame, he was the e...
There is a peculiar aesthetic pleasure in constructing the form of a syllabus, or a book of essays, or a course of lectures. Visions and shadows of people and ideas can be arranged and rearranged like...
She was called Maria. She was a Maria Magdalena who washed away sins, and she was Venus Anadyomene to me, though she was ill-nourished I think since birth, my artist’s eye saw she was puny, though my...
She leads you on and baffles you, said Beatrice. She wants you to know and not to know. She took care to write down that the box was there. And she buried it.
Part of her wanted simply to sit and stare out of the window, at the lawn, flaky with sodden leaves, and the branches with yellow leaves, or few, or none, she thought, taking pleasure at least in Shak...
It's exhausting. When everything's a deliberate political stance. Even if it's interesting.
He always told them the same thing, to begin with. ‘Try to avoid falseness and strain. Write what you really know about. Make it new. Don’t invent melodrama for the sake of it. Don’t try to run, let a...
But poets don't want homes -- do they? -- they are not creatures of hearths and firedogs, but of heaths and ranging hounds.
What is read and understood and contemplated and intellectually grasped is our own, madam, to live and work with. A lifetime's study will not make accessible to us more than a fragment of our own ance...
There were times when [he] allowed himself to see clearly that he would end his working life, that was to say, his conscious thinking life, in this task, that all his thoughts would have been another...
She had had the idea that the mineral world was a world of perfect, inanimate forms, with an unchanging mathematical order of crystals and molecules beneath its sprouts and flows and branches. She had...
Roland had learned to see himself, theoretically, as a crossing-place for a number of systems, all loosely connected. He had been trained to see his idea of his 'self' as an illusion, to be replaced b...
How true it was that one needed to be seen by others to be sure of one's own existence.
Good writing is always new.
God, said Benedict Fludd, your God, that is, strides in and out of my life with no warning. One day he seems impossible—laughable, laughable—and the next, he is imperious. He stopped. He said It is li...
Did we not—did you not flame, and I catch fire?
All English stories get bogged down in whether or not the furniture is socially and aesthetically acceptable.
Suppressing natural feelings, Methley said, in the end distorted both mind and body. And excluding them from the consideration of novelists distorted the novel, infantilised it, turned good fiction in...
Roland was so used to the pervasive sense of failure that he was unprepared for the blood-rush of success. He breathed differently. The dingy little room humped around in his vision briefly and settle...