Mine the long nightThe secret placeWhere lovers meetIn long embraceIn purple darkIn silvered kissForget the worldAnd grasp your bliss
I cannot bear not to know the end of a tale. I will read the most trivial things – once commenced – only out of a feverish greed to be able to swallow the ending – sweet or sour – and to be done with...
Harm can come about without will or action. But will and action can avert harm.
For my true thoughts have spent more time in your company than in anyone else's, these last two or three months, and where my thoughts are, there am I, in truth.
This is were I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the midpoint, to which everything ran, before and from which everything will run. But now, my...
There will always be people who will slash open the other cheek when it is turned to them.
The minds of stone lovers had colonised stones as lichens clung to them with golden or grey-green florid stains. The human world of stones is caught in organic metaphors like flies in amber. Words cam...
On the other side of attraction, is repulsion.
He her, he believed. He would teach her that she was not his possession, he would show her she was free, he would see her flash her wings.
But I cannot love her as I did, because she is not open, because she withholds what matters, because she makes me, with her pride or her madness, live a lie.
You know, all poetry may be a cry of generalised love, for this, or that, or the universe - which must be loved in its particularity, not its generality, but for its universal life in every minute par...
Without this excitement they cannot have their Lyric Verse, and so they get it by any convenient means -- and with absolute sincerity -- but the Poems are not for the young lady, the young lady is for...
We are a Faustian generation, my dear--we seek to know what we are maybe not designed (if we are designed) to be able to know.
There were all sorts of small canals and cuts and runnels to be crossed. There were trees that had been shaped by steady blasts of wind, stunted and reaching sideways. Philip wanted to draw them. They...
Randolph Henry Ash’s Proserpine had been seen as a Victorian reflection of religious doubt, a meditation on the myths of resurrection. Lord Leighton had painted her, distraught and floating, a golden...
No two faces are the same; this endless human diversity is one of the more hopeful things about the preponderant species on the planet.
Maud laughed, drily. Roland said, And then, really, what is it, what is this arcane power we have, when we see that everything is human sexuality? It's really powerlessness.Impotence, said Maud, leani...
Literary critics make natural detectives.
I am a creature of my pen. My pen is the best of me.
Here Carlyle had come, here George Eliot had progressed through the bookshelves. Roland could see her black silk skirts, her velvet trains, sweeping compressed between the Fathers of the Church, and h...