In Park Street, spring had inched its way past the windows. Sparrows searched under the eaves for hidden crevices where they might build.The Widow Cole had said her piece, but that was before the child was born. Now her tongue was silent. It was as she had feared: Mary had been cruelly deceived. It was a ...
Some like to see candescent peaksas daylight fades through fondant veilsof rose and peach,and alphorns and laryngeal arpeggiosecho in the feudal valleysand summon sprites from peepholesto the land of fairytales.Here, scarlet toadstools spring,edelweiss, blue gentian and alpen-rose and cowbells clank their altitudein misty, leather-bonded ...
The ire had festered beneath his good manners for the rest of that afternoon. When he returned, Mary was with her mother in the nursery, embroidering the letter ‘T’ upon new underlinen for identification by the laundry-maids. The boy was romping around her feet, absorbed in the noisy, unfocused activities through which ...
If there is any period one would desire to be born in, is it not the age of revolution when the old and the new stand side by side...when the glories of the old can be compensated by the rich possibilities of the new era. Ralph Waldo EmersonThe most radical revolutionary will become a conservative the day ...
Dear Miss Austen,Who would have guessed that the microcosm in deepest rural Hampshire you depict so tellingly would have been breached by a clamouring public right across the globe two centuries later?You little suspected, when you kept the creaking hinge in the door you scribbled behind, that the product of your guilty secret was destined to be ...
D G Rossetti I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument, while the song I came to sing remains unsung.Rabindranath TagoreOne's real life is often the life one does not lead.Oscar WildeRegret for the things we did can be tempered by time: it is regret for the things that we did not do that is inconsolable.Sidney J HarrisWhen one door closes, another opens; but we often look ...
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