Women Authors From England

"I did but see him and he disappeared, I did but pluck the rose-bud and it fell, A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely feared, For ill can mortals their afflictions spell."

"Friendship's an abstract of this noble flame, 'Tis love refined and purged from all its dross, The next to angel's love, if not the same, As strong as passion is, though not so gross: It antedates a glad eternity And is an heaven in epitome."

"Underrated: Barbara Pym, whose unpretentious, subtle, accomplished novels, especially Excellent Women and A Glass of Blessings, are for me the finest examples of high comedy to have appeared in England during the past seventy-five years."

"Underrated: The six novels of Barbara Pym published between 1950 and 1961 which give an unrivalled picture of a small section of middle-class post-war England. She has a unique eye and ear for the small poignancies and comedies of everyday life."

"'Every man should have a wife,' declared the rector firmly. 'A single clergyman is the prey of every spinster in the parish. He should marry for safety, if for no other reason.'"

"[I]t occurred to me that he might well be the kind of person who would prefer tinned salmon, though I was ashamed of the unworthy thought for I knew him to be a good man."

"Near them stood a thin woman with purple hair and a surprised expression, as if she had not expected that it would turn out to be quite that colour."

"'What do women do if they don't marry,' she mused, as if she had no idea what it could be, having been married once herself and about to marry again."

"Oh, but it was splendid the things women were doing for men all the time, thought Jane. Making them feel, perhaps sometimes by no more than a casual glance, that they were loved and admired and desired when they were worthy of none of these things – enabling them to preen themselves and puff out their plumage like birds and bask in the sunshine of love, real or imagined, it didn't matter which."

"'One hears that so many husbands coming back from the war find that their civilian clothes have been devoured by moth,' said Winifred seriously. 'That must be a dreadful shock.'"

"The small things of life were often so much bigger than the great things, she decided, wondering how many writers and philosophers had said this before her, the trivial pleasures like cooking, one's home, little poems especially sad ones, solitary walks, funny things seen and overheard."

"The new curate seemed quite a nice young man, but what a pity it was that his combinations showed, tucked carelessly into his socks, when he sat down."

"'I have to share a bathroom,' I had so often murmured, almost in shame, as if I personally had been found unworthy of a bathroom of my own."

"I knew of myself, from the age of about fifteen, that I was a natural Tory. All my instincts and all my loves were Trollopian. I loved the thought of a landed aristocracy, though I would never be a member of one (I did not, even in my fantasies, believe that I should marry a duke). I loved hunting; I loved time-honoured hierarchies; I loved cathedrals. I wanted to become an old-fashioned scholar. Above all, perhaps, I loved the idea of accumulating, inheriting and passing on wealth to my family. Nothing could be further from the politics of the Left. Yet increasingly during the war I felt that to indulge my instincts was wrong. I must pull myself together, recognise the unfairness of my privileged and comfortable way of life, begin properly to aim for a classless society, think about politics, become someone who would go to what I vaguely thought of as Meetings. By 1945, I had talked myself pretty thoroughly round to the Left."

"Oxford is, and always has been, full of cliques, full of factions, and full of a particular non-social snobbiness."

"Like a fish in the wind, jumps right out of its knowledge, and lands on the sand. Like when the wind comes ruffling at last, to sailors adrift, trying to manage the broken springs of their muscles, and lever and lift their well rubbed oars, making tiny dents, in the ocean. Like when they're cutting ash poles in the hills, the treetops fall as soft as cloth. Like oak trees swerving out of the hills, and setting their faces to the wind, day after day being practically lifted away, they are lashed to the earth, and never let go, gripping on darkness. All day in a trance of war, men murder each other, but at dusk, silence, only the fingers of fire lifting their questions to the mainland. Is there anybody there, please help. Help. help. Until he's full, and of his own iron will walks on."

"Poems, like dreams, have a visible subject and an invisible one. The invisible one is the one you can't choose, the one that writes itself. Not a message that comes at the end of the poem, more like a pathological condition that deforms every word – a resonance, a manner of speaking, a nervous tic, a pressure. And this invisible subject only shows up when you're speaking the language that you speak when no one is there to correct or applaud you. Remembering that language is the whole skill of writing well."

"In this city I must visit the abodes of sorrow: but as yet no way has opened: no person offered to go along with me, which has made me determine to do nothing but what connot be avoided of a public nature. O that my little labour of love were finished, and comfortably completed to the joy of such who might hail me a welcome stranger on Zion's happy Coast, where my mansion of bliss awaits me, after all the storms of life are past."

"Perhaps the most extraordinary woman in the world. We need say no more than the truth about her …"

"Before I was born, my father was priest, And built to Christ Jesus, a house for the least, To worship Jehovah, the True Living God, Who gave us His favour, and Shed forth His Blood.The Fountain is open, for you and for me, That word it is spoken, and always will be, While sinners are living, in flesh on this earth, And Jesus is praying, and giving them birth."

"In Christ you will find, a very dear Friend; Who is of this mind, to love to the end; Yet satan is seeking, His sheep to devour; And God He is making some whole this bright hour."

"As I am not a member of any community, no society can answer for my irregular conduct; neither do I wish to apologize to the world for my procedure; as I believe the Lord is my Shepherd, and Bishop of my soul. Duty to my Maker, excites me to faithfulness, knowing that life is the time to work for God; that I may be counted worthy to reign with the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, in "the city of the Living God, the Heavenly Jerusalem.""

"Whoever can feel, the love I do tell, Would take by the heel, poor sinners from hell; As downward they're going, to bring them above; To sing of Christ's dying, a Heaven of love."

"No man who aims at making his life an harmonious whole, pure, complete, and harmless to others, can endure to gratify an appetite at the cost of the daily suffering and bloodshed of his inferiors in degree, and of the moral degradation of his own kind. I know not which strikes me most forcibly in the ethics of this question the injustice, the cruelty, or the nastiness of flesh-eating. The injustice is to the butchers, the cruelty is to the animals, the nastiness concerns the consumer. With regard to this last in particular, I greatly wonder what persons of refinement—aye, even of decency—do not feel insulted on being offered, as a matter of course, portions of corpses as food! Such comestibles might possibly be tolerated during sieges, or times of other privation of proper viands in exceptional circumstances, but in the midst of a civilised community able to command a profusion of sound and delicious foods, it ought to be deemed an affront to set dead flesh before a guest."

"Things are not going well for me. My chef at the Charité strongly disapproves of women students and took this means of showing it. About a hundred men (no women except myself) went round the wards today, and when we were all assembled before him to have our names written down, he called and named all the students except me, and then closed the book. I stood forward upon this, and said quietly, "Et moi aussi, monsieur." [And me, Sir.] He turned on me sharply, and cried, "Vous, vous n'êtes ni homme ni femme; je ne veux pas inscrire vôtre nom." [You, you are neither man nor woman; I don't want to write your name.] I stood silent in the midst of a dead silence."

"How many times, for instance, have we not heard people speak with all the authority of conviction about the "canine teeth" and "simple stomach" of man, as certain evidence of his natural adaptation for a flesh diet! At least we have demonstrated one fact; that if such arguments are valid, they apply with even greater force to the anthropoid apes—whose "canine" teeth are much longer and more powerful than those of man … And yet, with the solitary exception of man, there is not one of these last which does not in a natural condition absolutely refuse to feed on flesh! M. Pouchet observes that all the details of the digestive apparatus in man, as well as his dentition, constitute "so many proofs of his frugivorous origin"—an opinion shared by Professor Owen, who remarks that the anthropoids and all the quadrumana derive their alimentation from fruits, grains, and other succulent and nutritive vegetable substances, and that the strict analogy which exists between the structure of these animals and that of man clearly demonstrates his frugivorous nature. This is also the view taken by Cuvier, Linnæus, Professor Lawrence, Charles Bell, Gassendi, Flourens, and a great number of other eminent writers."

"Greatness is no sure frame to build upon, No worldly treasure can assure that place; God makes both even, the Cottage with the Throne."

"If Eve did err, it was for knowledge’ sake, / The fruit being fair persuaded him to fall."

"To the beloved and deplored memory of her who was the inspirer, and in part the author, of all that is best in my writings – the friend and wife whose exalted sense of truth and right was my strongest incitement, and whose approbation was my chief reward – I dedicate this volume. Like all that I have written for many years, it belongs as much to her as to me ... Were I but capable of interpreting to the world one half the great thoughts and noble feelings which are buried in her grave, I should be the medium of a greater benefit to it, than is ever likely to arise from anything that I can write, unprompted and unassisted by her all but unrivaled wisdom."

"There is no inherent reason or necessity that all women should voluntarily choose to devote their lives to one animal function and its consequences. Numbers of women are wives and mothers only because there is no other career open to them, no other occupation for their feelings or activities. Every improvement in their education, and enlargement of their faculties, everything which renders them more qualified for any other mode of life, increases the number of those to whom it is an injury and an oppression to be denied the choice. To say that women must be excluded from active life because maternity disqualifies them for it, is in fact to say that every other career should be forbidden them, in order that maternity may be their only resource."

"if we look to the great majority of cases, the effect of women’s legal inferiority, on the character both of women and of men, must be painted in far darker colours. We do not speak here of the grosser brutalities, nor of the man’s power to seize on the woman’s earnings, or compel her to live with him against her will. We do not address ourselves to any one who requires to have it proved that these things should be remedied. We suppose average cases, in which there is neither complete union nor complete disunion of feelings and character; and we affirm, that, in such cases, the influence of the dependence on the woman’s side is demoralising to the character of both."

"We deny the right of any portion of the species to decide for another portion what is and what is not their ‘proper sphere’. The proper sphere for all human beings is the largest and highest which they are able to attain to."

"There are writers who exist to confirm people's feelings about themselves and to make them feel comforted or not alone. That's the opposite to what I do. I'm presenting people with unacceptable or hostile characters, and my desire is to make them understood."

"I'm not sorry for stealing my husband from his wife."

"Would I employ you if you were obese? No I would not. You would give the wrong impression to the clients of my business. I need people to look energetic, professional and efficient. If you are obese you look lazy."

"The difference between most mothers and me is that I didn't sit around drinking coffee at baby group for 12 months after the birth of my baby. No, in three weeks I was back in my suit, back at my desk earning profit for my business and I don’t see why other women shouldn't do the same."

"Women don’t want equal treatment, they couldn’t handle it if they got it. It’s a tough world out there. What a lot of women are actually looking for is special treatment. What women need to realise is that they have to toughen up."

"Ramadan typically brings a spike in violence in Middle East. I get grumpy when I don't eat - but I don't blow things up. Religion of peace?"

"From the first dawn of Life, unto the Grave, Poor Womankind's in every State, a Slave."

"We will our Rights in Learning's World maintain, Wit's Empire, now, shall know a Female Reign."

"Somehow for me these common tunes Can never sound the same again: They've magic now to thrill my heart And bring before me, clear and plain, Man that is master of his flesh, And has the laugh of death and pain."

"The Welsh boy has it by his bed, (He's lame - one leg blown away - He'll lie propped up with pillows there, And wind the handle half the day. His neighbour, with the shattered arm, Picks out the records he must play."

"Jock with his crutches beats the time; The gunner, with his head close-bound, Listen with puzzled, patient smile: (Shell shocked-he cannot hear a sound). The others join in from their beds, And send the chorus rolling round."

"One murmurs soft and low a woman's name; And here a vet'ran soldier calm and still As sculptured marble sleeps, and roams at will Through eastern lands where sunbeams scorch like flame, By rich bazaar and town, and wood-wrapt snow-crowned hill."

"Through the wide open window on great star, Swinging her lamp above the pear-tree high, Looks in upon these dreaming forms that lie So near in body, yet in soul so far As those bright worlds thick strewn ion that vast depth of sky."

"And one laughs out with an exultant joy. An athlete he - Maybe his young limbs strain In some remembered game, and not in vain To win his side the goal - Poor crippled boy, Who in the waking world will never run again."

"Here one cries sudden on a sobbing breath, Gripped in the clutch of some incarnate fear What terror through the darkness draweth near? What memory of carnage and ofdeath What vanished scenes of dread to his closed eyes appear?"

"Through the long ward the gramophone Grinds out its nasal melodies: "Where did you get that girl?" it shrills. The patients listen at their ease, Through clouds of strong tobacco smoke: The gramophone can always please."

"But when the dreaded moment's there He'll face us all, a soldier yet, Watch his bared wounds with unmoved air, (Though tell-tale lashes still are wet), And smoke his Woodbine cigarette."

"I dreamt last night Christ came to earth again To bless His own. My soul from place to place On her dream-quest sped, seeking for His face Through temple and town and lovely land, in vain. Then came I to a place where death and pain Had made of God's sweet world a waste forlorn, With shattered trees and meadows gashed and torn, Where the grim trenches scarred the shell-sheared plain."