Thomas Hardy Quote
Clare could bear this no longer. His eyes were full of tears, which seemed like drops of molten lead. He bade a quick good-night to these sincere and simple souls whom he loved so well; who knew neither the world, the flesh, or the devil in their own hearts; only as something vague and external to themselves. He went to his own chamber.His mother followed him, and tapped at his door. Clare opened it to discover her standing without, with anxious eyes. Angel, she asked, is there something wrong that you must go away so soon? I am quite certain you are not yourself.I am not, quite, mother, said he.About her? Now, my son, I know it is that--I know it is about her! Have you quarreled in these three weeks?We have not exactly quarreled, he said. But we have had a difference--Angel--is she a young woman whose history will bear investigation?With a mother's instinct Mrs. Clare had put her finger on the kind of trouble that would cause such a disquiet as seemed to agitate her son. She is spotless! he replied; and he felt that if it had sent him to eternal hell there and then he would have told that lie.
Clare could bear this no longer. His eyes were full of tears, which seemed like drops of molten lead. He bade a quick good-night to these sincere and simple souls whom he loved so well; who knew neither the world, the flesh, or the devil in their own hearts; only as something vague and external to themselves. He went to his own chamber.His mother followed him, and tapped at his door. Clare opened it to discover her standing without, with anxious eyes. Angel, she asked, is there something wrong that you must go away so soon? I am quite certain you are not yourself.I am not, quite, mother, said he.About her? Now, my son, I know it is that--I know it is about her! Have you quarreled in these three weeks?We have not exactly quarreled, he said. But we have had a difference--Angel--is she a young woman whose history will bear investigation?With a mother's instinct Mrs. Clare had put her finger on the kind of trouble that would cause such a disquiet as seemed to agitate her son. She is spotless! he replied; and he felt that if it had sent him to eternal hell there and then he would have told that lie.
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About Thomas Hardy
While Hardy wrote poetry throughout his life and regarded himself primarily as a poet, his first collection was not published until 1898. Initially, he gained fame as the author of novels such as Far from the Madding Crowd (1874), The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), Tess of the d'Urbervilles (1891) and Jude the Obscure (1895). During his lifetime, Hardy's poetry was acclaimed by younger poets (particularly the Georgians) who viewed him as a mentor. After his death his poems were lauded by Ezra Pound, W. H. Auden and Philip Larkin.
Many of his novels concern tragic characters struggling against their passions and social circumstances, and they are often set in the semi-fictional region of Wessex; initially based on the medieval Anglo-Saxon kingdom, Hardy's Wessex eventually came to include the counties of Dorset, Wiltshire, Somerset, Devon, Hampshire and much of Berkshire, in south-west and south central England. Two of his novels, Tess of the d'Urbervilles and Far from the Madding Crowd, were listed in the top 50 on the BBC's survey of best-loved novels, The Big Read.