Women Authors From England

"High school is like a kingdom, only instead of temperamental royals, golden thrones, and designer outfits flown in from Europe, the hallways are filled with loud postpubescent teens, the classrooms with rows of wooden desks and students dressed in ugly plaid skirts, navy-colored slacks, and stiff blue blazers."

"Perhaps if hierarchies weren’t so important and people weren’t constantly trying to take me down, maybe I’d be more trusting of people, and Ava and I would be more than just two girls using each other to survive high school."

"Even though I know I shouldn’t care, it annoys me that when girls know what they want and how they’re going to get it, they’re seen as cocky. But guys who know what they want? They’re confident or strong."

"Most people think the three of us are friends, since we’re almost always seen together. But we’re not friends. Our relationship is a transaction."

"Free as Nature’s first intention Was to make us, I’ll be found, Nor by subtle Man’s invention Yeild to be in Fetters bound By one that walks a freer round.Mariage does but slightly tye Men Whil’st close Pris’ners we remain, They the larger Slaves of Hymen Still are begging Love again At the full length of all their chain."

"Cou’d our First Father, at his toilsome Plough, Thorns in his Path, and Labour on his Brow, Cloath’d only in a rude, unpolish’d Skin, Cou’d he a vain Fantastick Nymph have seen, In all her Airs, in all her antick Graces, Her various Fashions, and more various Faces; How had it pos’d that Skill, which late assign’d Just Appellations to Each several Kind! A right idea of the Sight to frame; T’have guest from what New Element she came; T’have hit the wav’ring Form, and giv’n this Thing a Name."

"I know no good comes from comparing what I have to what they have, but seeing all that money and privilege, and having none, hurts. I try to convince myself that being a scholarship kid doesn’t matter, that I shouldn’t care."

"How are we fal’n, fal’n by mistaken rules, And Education’s more than Nature’s fools."

"The familiar sense of peace rises inside, and my hands stretch toward the piano. And then I play."

"Did I my lines intend for publick view, How many censures wou’d their faults persue; ... True judges might condemn their want of witt, And all might say, they’re by a Woman writt."

"This to the crown and blessing of my life, The much lov’d husband of a happy wife; To him whose constant passion found the art To win a stubborn and ungratefull heart, And to the world by tend’rest proof discovers, They err, who say that husbands can’t be lovers."

"Alas! a woman that attempts the pen, Such an intruder on the rights of men, Such a presumptuous Creature, is esteem’d, The fault, can by no vertue be redeem’d."

"They tell us we mistake our sex and way; Good breeding, fassion, dancing, dressing, play Are the accomplishments we shou’d desire; To write, or read, or think, or to enquire Wou’d cloud our beauty and exaust our time, And interrupt the Conquests of our prime; Whilst the dull mannage of a servile house Is held by some our outmost art and use."

"The King, the Priest, the Prophet, all are Thine, Nor wou’d ev’n God (in Flesh) thy Stroke decline."

"Love, thou art best of Human Joys, Our chiefest Happiness below; All other Pleasures are but Toys, Musick without Thee is but Noise, And Beauty but an empty show.Heav’n, who knew best what Man wou’d move, And raise his Thoughts above the Brute; Said, Let him Be, and Let him Love; That must alone his Soul improve, Howe’er Philosophers dispute."

"Judge not my passion by my want of skill: Many love well, though they express it ill; And I your censure cou’d with pleasure bear, Wou’d you but soon returne, and speake it here."

"Aren’t you tired of mandem using your hearts for sport? I ask this now because I heard there’s a new player in town. And I won’t lie, he’s kind of cute too. A snack. A beverage. But you guys know that too much coffee is bad for you, right?"

"The smile he gave her was mainstream, pop, radio-friendly. The smile he’d given me was the single released after an artist had established themselves, found their voice, could speak directly to their target audience. The smile he’d given me had more R&B to it."

"Wastemen are aptly called so because they waste our time. Waste our energy. On purpose. They sell us dreams and then take them away, so we end up chasing them as if it was ever a reality."

"I didn't like doing things I wasn't good at, but it turned out I loved learning how to love with him."

"Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for loving me back. Thank you for staying, I know it was hard sometimes. I hope you now live free."

"Pieces of me fell into place. I was growing into what I should be. We were growing. It wasn't as if our love built me, it's that it galvanized me, making me stronger because he saw me fully, the best and worst parts."

"He wasn't my type. At all. And yet there was something about him that made me want to be his type."

"Men who actually considered themselves to be the "good ones" and yet-between the Africans on one side and the women on the other-never knew where to expect the next challenge to their God-given authority and therefore fought preemptively on every front at once."

"They enjoyed the glamour but not the gore, not knowing that the gore was what gave the glamour its gleam."

"Psy was smiling. It was warm and soft, and to Eros it looked like the perfect place to lie in and just be."

"Love is not about finding someone to live with, it's about finding someone you can't imagine living without"

"You never really know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice."

"Can we start the show?” I smiled into the mic and adjusted the headphones on my ears, slid a knob on the mixing desk down, and switched to a soft neo-soul instrumental, turning it down low."

"It was the kind of lovemaking that has you feeling more beautiful the next day; walking smugly with a sway, hips swishing, with a nimbus of power and joy around you."

"Eros pulled Psy so close to him there was no real demarcation between her heartbeat and his, and when they kissed, with Olympus beneath their feet and the sky surrounding them, Eros felt as if what they had was not just above the world as they knew it, but beyond it, out of its touch, its scope, itself a propelling energy that catapulted and vacuumed them into their own universe."

"Time was constructed with love in mind."

"Love is a worn-out concept anyway—and one that quickly leads to terrible decisions and, even worse, pop music.["

"Before my eyes an all-encompassing blackness spread. A hole. Were I to fall into it, there would be no escape."

"Time was constructed with love in mind. / Time and love are intertwined, they are both measures of life, they are the two clocks."

"Love is the prism through which I view the world. I truly believe it binds and propels us. This isn’t a naive denial of the darkness that we know exists in the world; rather it is a refusal to allow the devastation, the horror, or the heartache to consume us."

"Time and love are intertwined, they are both measures of life, they are the two clocks. And, for love to operate as it should, it is imperative that the timing should be right."

"I couldn’t believe I was letting my ex-boyfriend risk the security of my bag. Money before honeys. No. Men weren’t honeys. Scratch that. Fees before The D. Contracts before Phone Contacts. Those were all terrible and I cannot believe someone is paying me to write. I opened up Instagram to distract myself."

"The limestone cliff of , surrounded by sandbanks and shallows, is not so favoured by breeding birds, but the jackdaw and dove—doubtless the stock-dove—are busy about its niches in nesting time. And in autumn and winter the mud-flats of the estuaries and the sands of the bays are busy with bird life. Besides troops of gulls and oyster-catchers, and curlews, and redshanks, and dunlins, there are far-coming whimbrels, and sanderlings, and knots, as well as more rarely seen species. There are geese on the flows, and sea-duck, scaup, common scoter, wigeon and others on the tide."

"The visitor to Oxford goes to see, amongst the wonders of that historic but by no means old-looking city, the college established there by in 1274. It boast several attractions. Besides the chapel, pre-eminent for the beauty of its Decorated English architecture, there is the founder's treasure-house, with its ashlar roof, the ancient ironwork of the hall door, and the wondrous old library in the Mob Quadrangle, where Duns Scotus succeeded in that dangerous and hazardous feat of raising the devil."

"The churchyard, even more than the church itself, had its secular and popular uses, which came down from ancient time. The fairs, the markets, the sports and the wrestlings ... which took place within its enclosing walls, and of which we obtain faint intimations, were but the survival of the festivals sanctioned by the early church, when the wake, or fair of the was kept. This again, with its bull-baiting, its rude sports and its temporary stalls, may be linked on to the earlier rites of heathen times, when beasts were brought to the Temple for sacrifice, and when the people built booths about it, in which to hold a three days' feast. The annual or biennial fair, and even the Sunday market, were quite usual in the churchyard, before the boroughs obtained a special privilege for them."

"[I]t has become customary in recent weeks to refer to [[Nigel Farage|Mr [Nigel] Farage]] as the most consequential politician since Margaret Thatcher. ... I knew Lady Thatcher, and to compare the two is to compare the Uffizi Gallery to a third-rate auction house."

"Rather than a Tory wipeout and Labour landslide, Starmer's floundering could lead us to another Theresa May 2017 situation, with himself as the emperor without clothes. Everyone laughed when Sunak first suggested a hung parliament. But the momentum building behind "no overall majority" shows the Tories are having a much better campaign than Labour."

"[[Rishi Sunak|[Rishi] Sunak]]'s decision to call a snap general election on July 4 is fast being vindicated as a rare example of sound strategic political thinking from the PM. Not only did it catch Reform off guard, but it has also caught Sir Keir Starmer with his socialist pants down."

"I did worry that last week's column, when I suggested that Rishi Sunak may be on the brink of making an extraordinary comeback, wasn't going to age particularly well. [...] Following Nigel Farage's resurgence and the Prime Minister's disastrous decision to leave the D-Day commemorations early, it’s fair to say that my column now looks about as prescient as David Icke."

"The garlands fade that Spring so lately wove, Each simple flower, which she had nurs’d in dew, Anemonies that spangled every grove, The primrose wan, and hare-bell, mildly blue. No more shall violets linger in the dell, Or purple orchis variegate the plain, Till Spring again shall call forth every bell, And dress with humid hands, her wreaths again. Ah! poor humanity! so frail, so fair, Are the fond visions of thy early day, Till tyrant passion, and corrosive care, Bid all thy fairy colours fade away! Another May new buds and flowers shall bring; Ah! why has happiness—no second spring?"

"Pressed by the moon, mute arbitress of tides, While the loud equinox its power combines, The sea no more its swelling surge confines, But o’er the shrinking land sublimely rides. The wild blast, rising from the western cave, Drives the huge billows from their heaving bed, Tears from their grassy tombs the village dead, And breaks the silent sabbath of the grave! With shells and sea-weed mingled, on the shore Lo! their bones whiten in the frequent wave; But vain to them the winds and waters rave; They hear the warring elements no more: While I am doomed—by life’s long storm oppressed, To gaze with envy on their gloomy rest."

"Queen of the silver bow! by thy pale beam, Alone and pensive, I delight to stray, And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream, Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way. And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast; And oft I think, fair planet of the night, That in thy orb the wretched may have rest; The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Released by death, to thy benignant sphere, And the sad children of despair and woe Forget in thee their cup of sorrow here, O that I soon may reach thy world serene, Poor wearied pilgrim in this toiling scene!"

"Oh! for imperial Polydamna’s art, Which to bright Helen was in Egypt taught, To mix with magic power the oblivious draught Of force to staunch the bleeding of the heart, And to Care’s wan and hollow cheek impart The smile of happy youth, uncursed with thought. Potent indeed the charm that could appease Affection’s ceaseless anguish, doomed to weep O’er the cold grave; or yield even transient ease By soothing busy Memory to sleep! —Around me those who surely must have tried Some charm of equal power, I daily see, But still to me Oblivion is denied, There’s no Nepenthe, now, on earth for me."

"And then suddenly I feel tears in my eyes. I bring up to cover my face and when I speak, my voice is all high-pitched and wobbly. "I feel like shirt." "Oh, Charlie." Tori puts down her crisps and pulls me into a hug, running one hand over my back. "It's okay." I shake my head into her shoulder, trying not to get tears all over her dressing gown. "It's not okay... it's really not okay..." She lets me cry into her shoulder for a few minutes before she speaks again. "I think you need to talk to him.""I don't know what to say," I whisper. "Just something. Anything." "He hates me." "That's untrue." "He's angry." "That's temporary." "I don't know what to say." "It doesn't matter what you say," she says. "You just have to say something.""