Richard Llewellyn Quote

I went to her, and she looked up at me as though fearing something more to hurt her, I saw her eyes, that were the eyes of one not long from the cot and the tears that ran and shone in the sunlight swelled to crystal in mine, and in my blindness I saw, as through the mist of a morning, the grass upon a field torn, and a spewing forth of earth and stones, and men coming to stand before me who wore their steel as I wear tweed, in ease and comfort, and their swords were bright. And I heard a note in the infant voice as of trumpets sounding for battle, and drums beat, and men were shouting, chariots raced and dragon banners streamed, and bowmen plucked strings while steel spoke in the ranks and lance heads glittered in the sun. And battle lust was in me, with blood running red about my feet and my hands red with it, and slippery, and the smell of it hot near me.

Richard Llewellyn

I went to her, and she looked up at me as though fearing something more to hurt her, I saw her eyes, that were the eyes of one not long from the cot and the tears that ran and shone in the sunlight swelled to crystal in mine, and in my blindness I saw, as through the mist of a morning, the grass upon a field torn, and a spewing forth of earth and stones, and men coming to stand before me who wore their steel as I wear tweed, in ease and comfort, and their swords were bright. And I heard a note in the infant voice as of trumpets sounding for battle, and drums beat, and men were shouting, chariots raced and dragon banners streamed, and bowmen plucked strings while steel spoke in the ranks and lance heads glittered in the sun. And battle lust was in me, with blood running red about my feet and my hands red with it, and slippery, and the smell of it hot near me.

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About Richard Llewellyn

Richard Dafydd Vivian Llewellyn Lloyd (né Richard Herbert Vivian Lloyd; 8 December 1906, London – 30 November 1983, Dublin), known by his pen name Richard Llewellyn ( loo-EL-in, Welsh: [ɬəˈwɛlɪn]), was a British novelist of a Welsh background, who is best remembered for his 1939 novel How Green Was My Valley, which chronicles life in a coal mining village in the South Wales Valleys.