Catch on fire with enthusiasm, and people will come for miles to watch you burn
I could faintly smell the ocean. I imagined being one of the old oak trees standing there swaying in the wind and braving all sorts of weather. I pondered what they had seen in the past and what they...
Children worked in the mills: "I will always believe that children are designed for green meadows and play, not for factories and cotton dust.
In the forest you may find yourself lost, without companions. You may come to a river which is not on a map. You may lose sight of your quarry, and forget why you are there. You may meet a dwarf, or t...
The tall, thin serious man strode in, his dark cloak billowing so dramatically it threatened to extinguish the lamp flame with its draught. He advanced like a malevolent shadow consuming the dim orang...
Think of this- that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other.
He who whets his steel, whets his courage.
The schoolroom . . . Olivia had always adored its confines and endless horizons. The melodious purr of the teacher's voice rising up and down her lessons like a musical score. And the sight of book sp...
The human heartIs unknowable.But in my birthplaceThe flowers still smellThe same as always.
All things in Fiji are paid for in blood.
Humans will never be in charge of this world, as long as dust and weeds do as they please.
If God did not exist it would be necessary to invent Him. But all nature cries aloud that He does exist."(Voltaire)
In my end lies my beginning" Who said that? Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots (1542-1587).
Franchement vu la façon dont j'ai été traitée par les gens dits civilisés, il me tarde finalement d'aller vivre chez les sauvages.
Amy wondered if Bonaparte could declare war on Miss Gwen alone without breaking his peace with England
Why write about the past? Well, there's more of it.
The curtains were not yet drawn and with the moonlight spreading across the room, I could see clearly. I undressed and slipped a soft cotton gown over my naked body. I pulled the blanket off the foot...
I do not want to be a relative and passive being, anywhere. I want to live and love and write.
Tethered to the universe by tendrils of history, with threads of continuity descending to God knows where, I see that I'm more than the dust I'll become." This quote is from my novel, "Whispers from S...
The soft, fluttering cry of a barn owl rose over the churchyard. Silent men flowed out of the dark.