Richard Llewellyn Quote

Is that all, sir? I asked him, and worried, with no happiness. Is that all? he said, and held up his hands. What more, then? Well, sir, I said, I thought it was something more. Something terrible. It is terrible, Huw, said Mr. Gruffydd, and in quiet, with his hand on my head. It is indeed terrible. Think, you. To have the responsibility of a life within you. Many lives. Think of the miseries and afflictions that can come to those lives beyond the span of your own. Think to have small children in your own likeness standing at your knee, and to know them as flesh of your flesh, blood of your blood, looking to you for guidance as you look to God the Father for yours. Can that be anything but terrible, in majesty and in beauty beyond words?

Richard Llewellyn

Is that all, sir? I asked him, and worried, with no happiness. Is that all? he said, and held up his hands. What more, then? Well, sir, I said, I thought it was something more. Something terrible. It is terrible, Huw, said Mr. Gruffydd, and in quiet, with his hand on my head. It is indeed terrible. Think, you. To have the responsibility of a life within you. Many lives. Think of the miseries and afflictions that can come to those lives beyond the span of your own. Think to have small children in your own likeness standing at your knee, and to know them as flesh of your flesh, blood of your blood, looking to you for guidance as you look to God the Father for yours. Can that be anything but terrible, in majesty and in beauty beyond words?

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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.