Quotes About Author

a better reading of history must bring home the truth that the basic factor in human affairs is not politics, but race.

Against the Word the unstilled world still whirledAbout the center of the silent Word.

More can be learned about how to write poetry from Dante than from any English poet…. The language of each great English poet is his own language; the language of Dante is the perfection of a common language.

The general point of view may be described as classicist in literature, royalist in politics, and Anglo-Catholic in religion.

I'll convert you!Into a stew.A nice little, white little, missionary stew!

Form the habit of writing your thoughts. The mechanical element assists the power of concentration.

A coward's gun is emptied when fear pulls the trigger, and hate is the ammunition of choice."

From New York they traveled on to Washington, a swamp village by comparison. In

But Nikki White was a citizen of the world's richest country, the United States of America.

At NBC I wasn't really sure if the grandparents were going to get my sense of humor on a particular topic.

Abuse if you slight it, will gradually die away; but if you show yourself irritated, you will be thought to have deserved it.

A piece of writing is a trap," he said cheerily, "and the best kind. A book, you see, is the only kind of trap that keeps its captive—which is knowledge—alive forever.

It is the camp law: people going to their death must be deceived to the very end.

Za co pan nas tak nie lubi? -Ja wszystkich nie lubi?. Albo, je?li chcesz, wszystkich lubi?. Nawet tych biednych sekretarzy, waszego i naszego, którzy w tej chwili by? mo?e ca?uj? si? bez ochoty w usta.

A liberal is a socialist with a wife and two children.

Tact carries a bunch of curiously-fashioned keys, that open all kinds of doors.

Girls want attention. Women want respect.

if she'd been one of those hexy Dutch instead of a God-fearing Amishwoman, I'm sure she'd have put a spell on me.

who had become the monk, or the one who had earned the title of The Bloodlust Warrior of Hastings. The man she had vowed

ade slipping back into place. "Heavy crowd tonight.

It was as if Tutankhamen or Miss Havisham had wandered into the pub one night and started bitching about the head on the pints.

The squealing little arse-gerbil.

Stephen shrugged. "Yeah. Well. I said I would." "Ah. Are we having issues?" "This feels sleazy." "I promise I'll respect you in the morning.

For months she had slowly been turning into my own secret magnetic north.