Mary Webb
Mary Webb
Mary Webbwas an English romantic novelist and poet of the early 20th century, whose work is set chiefly in the Shropshire countryside and among Shropshire characters and people which she knew. Her novels have been successfully dramatized, most notably the film Gone to Earth in 1950 by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. They inspired the famous parody Cold Comfort Farm...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth25 March 1881
death dream dark
For the world is founded and built up on death, and the reality of death is neither to be questioned nor feared. Death is a dark dream, but it is not a nightmare. It is mankind's lack of pity, mankind's fatal propensity for torture, that is the nightmare.
years people heaven
She had for so many years been trying to be like other people, that she was now like nothing in heaven or earth.
soul insane doe
For the more a soul conforms to the sanity of others, the more does it become insane.
loud-voices blood battle
There is surely no more unselfish person than the anthologist. For while all we others are striving to ensure our own immortality with eagerness, beguilements, buffooneries, loud voices, 'the sound of battle and garments rolled in blood,' the anthologist is quietly ensuring the immortality of somebody else.
nature silence music-is
Nature's music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.
nature passion greed
The love of nature is a passion for those in whom it once lodges. It can never be quenched. It cannot change. It is a furious, burning, physical greed, as well as a state of mystical exaltation. It will have its own.
life kindness be-kind
If you stop to be kind, you must swerve often from your path.
dream ems saddles
Saddle your dreams before you ride em.
thinking want
The more anybody wants a thing, the more they do think others want it.
past tomorrow invisible
The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow's past.
giving digestion lord
Give me good digestion, Lord, And also something to digest; but where and how that something comes I leave to Thee, who knoweth best.
moving heart voice
Every time I meet a tree, if I am truly awake, I stand in awe before it. I listen to its voice, a silent sermon moving me to the depths, touching my heart, and stirring up within my soul a yearning to give my all.
past aging tomorrow
We are tomorrow's past.
thinking self way
it is the way of lovers to think that none can bless or succour their love but their own selves. And there is a touch of truth in it, maybe more than a touch.