Our thoughts on this day go to those affected by the Manchester bombing.
They never pulled the curtains till it was too dark to see, nor shut the windows till it was too cold. Why shut out the day before it was over? The flowers were still bright; the birds chirped. You could see more in the evening often when nothing interrupted, when there was no fish to order, no telephone to answer. ~ Between the Acts by Virginia Woolf
At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others–poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner–young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life. ~ The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
With a fierce action of her hand, as if she sprinkled hatred on the ground, and with it devoted those who were standing there to destruction, she looked up once at the black sky, and strode out into the wild night. ~ Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens
Leonard looked at her wondering, and had the sense of great things sweeping out of the shrouded night. But he could not receive them, because his heart was still full of little things. ~ Howards End by E. M. Forster
And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolflike, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. ~ The Call of the Wild by Jack London
We added some new quotes to the site today. All of the quotes list an author and a source. Why? This quotation collection is curated by people and NOT by a computer program.
Here are some quotes from the new additions.
It is never quite safe to think we have done with life. When we imagine we have finished our story fate has a trick of turning the page and showing us yet another chapter. ~ Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maud Montgomery
“You will be required to do wrong no matter where you go. It is the basic condition of life, to be required to violate your own identity. At some time, every creature which lives must do so. It is the ultimate shadow, the defeat of creation; this is the curse at work, the curse that feeds on all life. Everywhere in the universe.” ~ Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick
Grace Stepney’s mind was like a kind of moral fly-paper, to which the buzzing items of gossip were drawn by a fatal attraction, and where they hung fast in the toils of an inexorable memory. ~ The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
There was a lady at Santarem–but my lips are sealed. It is the part of a gallant man to say nothing, though he may indicate that he could say a great deal. ~ The Crime of The Brigadier by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Sir Henry Rider Haggard, better known as H. Rider Haggard, was an English writer of adventure novels. He was born in 1856 and died in 1925.
He was born at Bradenham, Norfolk. In his youth Haggard traveled to South Africa to work in the British government. Later he would draw upon his experiences and knowledge of Africa as a writer. He married Marianna Louisa Margitson in 1880. The couple had a son named Jack (who died of measles at age 10) and three daughters, Angela, Dorothy and Lilias.
King Solomon’s Mines, one of his most famous books, was published in 1885 and introduced the character of Allan Quatermain.
Out of the dark we came, into the dark we go. Like a storm-driven bird at night we fly out of the Nowhere; for a moment our wings are seen in the light of the fire, and, lo! we are gone again into the Nowhere. ~ King Solomon’s Mines by H. Rider Haggard
The Witch’s Head
King Solomon’s Mines
A Tale of Three Lions
Maiwa’s Revenge, or the War of the Little Hand
Colonel Quaritch, VC
The World’s Desire
Nada the Lily
An Heroic Effort
The People of the Mist
Heart of the World
Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek
Stella Fregelius: A Tale of Three Destinies
Ayesha: The Return of She
The Way of the Spirit
The Ghost Kings
The Yellow God
The Lady of Blossholme
Queen Sheba’s Ring
The Mahatma and the Hare
Child of Storm
The Wanderer’s Necklace
The Holy Flower
The Ivory Child
Moon of Israel
When the World Shook
The Ancient Allan
She and Allan
The Virgin of the Sun
Queen of the Dawn
The Treasure of the Lake
Allan and the Ice-gods
Mary of Marion Isle
With fake news running wild, how do we know what’s true? Here’s what William Shakespeare, Herman Melville, George R. R. Martin and others have to say.
There was a great historian lost in Wolverstone. He had the right imagination that knows just how far it is safe to stray from the truth and just how far to colour it so as to change its shape for his own purposes. ~ Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini
Being in a minority, even a minority of one, did not make you mad. There was truth and there was untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad. ~ Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell
“I make no manner of doubt that you threw a very diamond of truth at me, though you see it hit me so directly in the face that it wasn’t exactly appreciated, at first.” ~ Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch; nay, you may kick it about all day, like a football, and it will be round and full at evening. ~ The Professor at the Breakfast Table by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.
Kate Chopin’s maiden name was O’Flaherty. She was born on February 8, 1850 in St. Louis, Missouri. In 1870 she married Oscar Chopin. During the course of their marriage they had six children. The family initially lived in New Orleans. Later they moved to Cloutierville.
Oscar Chopin died of malaria in 1882 and left Kate with a great deal of debt. In 1884 Kate and her children moved back to St. Louis to live with Kate’s mother. Sadly, Kate’s mother died the next year.
The death of her husband and mother in such a short span of time hit Kate hard. A family friend suggested that she take up writing as a way to deal with her depression. By the early 1890s Chopin’s work was being published in magazines in newspapers. Her best-known work, The Awakening, was published in 1899.
Kate Chopin died on August 22, 1904.