Elizabeth Bowen
Elizabeth Bowen
Elizabeth Bowen, CBEwas an Anglo-Irish novelist and short story writer...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth7 June 1899
CountryIreland
people privacy
Love of privacy - perhaps because of the increasing exactions of society - has become in many people almost pathological.
suffering survival desert
We desert those who desert us; we cannot afford to suffer; we must live how we can.
essence finals poetic
Have not all poetic truths been already stated? The essence of a poetic truth is that no statement of it can be final.
bullying travel sight
Nothing, that is say no one, can be such an inexorable tour-conductor as one's own conscience or sense of duty, if one allows either the upper hand: the self-bullying that goes on in the name of sight-seeing is grievous.
travel journey littles
Someone soon to start on a journey is always a little holy.
pleasure spoilt
Spoilt pleasure is a sad, unseemly thing; you can only bury it.
trouble should difficulty
one should discuss one's difficulties only when they are over.
order people crooks
But complex people are never certain that they are not crooks, never certain their passports are quite in order, and are, therefore, unnerved by the slightest thing.
morning fall autumn
Autumn arrives in the early morning.
freedom flying gold
This, my first [bicycle] had an intrinsic beauty. And it opened for me an era of all but flying, which roads emptily crossing theairy, gold-gorsy Common enhanced. Nothing since has equalled that birdlike freedom.
change imagination chance
Imagination of my kind is most caught, most fired, most worked upon by the unfamiliar: I have thrivenon the changes and chances, the dislocations andcontrasts which have made up so much of my life.
war mistake tables-and-chairs
All my life I have said, "Whatever happens there will always be tables and chairs"--and what a mistake.
artist ornaments unthinkable
... artists were intended to be an ornament to society. As a society in themselves they are unthinkable.
garden games childhood
At the age of twelve I was finding the world too small: it appeared to me like a dull, trim back garden, in which only trivial games could be played.