#EnglishWriters
Something forgotten for twenty yea… and mothers came from Cordova and… and though I am a citizen of the… stranger here than anywhere else,… I am Essex-born:
Fully occupied with growing—that’s the amaryllis. Growing especially at night: it would take only a bit more patience than I’ve… to sit keeping watch with it till…
Pale, then enkindled, light advancing, emblazoning summits of palm and pine,
Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appearrs, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted ...
Rose Red’s hair is brown as fur and shines in firelight as she pre… supper of honey and apples, curds… for the bear, and leaves it ready on the hearth-stone.
Turn from that road’s beguiling ea… to your hunger’s turret. Enter, cl… chill with disuse, where the croak… regards from shimmering eyes your… and the drip, drip, of darkness gl…
Elves are no smaller than men, and walk as men do, in this world, but with more grace than most, and are not immortal.
That dog with daisies for eyes who flashes forth flame of his very self at every ba… is the Dog of Art. Worked in wool, his blind eyes
The red eyes of rabbits aren’t sad. No one passes the sad golden village in a barge any more. The sunset will leave it alone. If the
It’s when we face for a moment the worst our kind can do, and shu… the taint in our own selves, that… cracks the mind’s shell and enters… not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
The tree of knowledge was the tree… That’s why the taste of it drove us from Eden. That fruit was meant to be dried and milled t… for use a pinch at a time, a condi…
"The World is not something to look at, it is something to be in.… Mark Rudman I look and look. Looking’s a way of being: one beco…
Innocent decision: to enjoy. And the pathos of hopefulness, of his solicitude: —he in mended serape, she having plaited carefully
We live our lives of human passion… cruelties, dreams, concepts, crimes and the exercise of virtue in and beside a world devoid of our preoccupations, free
Not the moon. A flower on the other side of the water. The water sweeps past in flood, dragging a whole tree by the hair, a barn, a bridge. The flower