Dawn Powell
Dawn Powell
Dawn Powellwas an American writer of novels and stories...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPlaywright
Date of Birth28 November 1896
CountryUnited States of America
gossip people village
A writer's business is minding other people's business ... all the vices of the village gossip are the virtues of the writer.
cities majors
There is really one city for everyone just as there is one major love.
forests rich instinct
A novel must be a rich forest known at the start only by instinct.
kindness pessimistic injustice
I realize more and more how instinctively pessimistic I am of all human kindness -- since I am always so bowled over by it -- and am never surprised by injustice, malice or personal attack.
lovely together lovely-day
Joe and Jojo and I had lovely day together. I love Joe so much - more and more.
war men vanity
The basis of tragedy is man's helplessness against disease, war and death; the basis of comedy is man's helplessness against vanity (the vanity of love, greed, lust, power).
girl baby believe
I think we will have a boy baby and he will be born on the 20th of August. Everyone else has a girl baby and at times I don't believe I should mind having a little Phyllis Dawn but Dearest wants a boy and I do.
genius world selfless
For a genius to be a genius, he must have a selfless slave between himself and the world.
years evil childhood
Rage swept over her at being young, young and little, as if some evil fairy had put that spell on her. Why must you be locked up in this dreadful cage of childhood for twenty or a hundred years? Nothing in life was possible unless you were old and rich, until then you were only small and futile before your tormentors, desperately waiting for the release that only years could bring.
new-york garden glasses
An evening up on the Empire State roof-the strangest experience. The huge tomb in steel and glass, the ride to the 84th floor and there, under the clouds, a Hawaiian string quartet, lounge, concessions and, a thousand feet below, New York-a garden of golden lights winking on and off, automobiles, trucks winding in and out, and not a sound. All as silent as a dead city-and it looks adagio down there.
rushing peaceful contentment
Yet better for one of my nature to have it that way than to have life a peaceful, placid flow of quiet contentment. I must have days of rushing excitement.
artist people needs
The artist who really loves people loves them so well the way they are he sees no need to disguise their characteristics-he loves them whole, without retouching. Yet the word used for this unqualifying affection is 'cynicism'.
running book track
A novel is like a gland pill - it nips off the cream of my hysterics and gets them running on track in a book where they belong instead of rioting all over my person.
kissing night hands
I want so much for my lover. At night when our beds are drawn close together I waken and see his dear yellow head on the pillow - sometimes his arm thrown over on my bed - and I kiss his hand, very softly so that it will not waken him.