tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21675474143384154562024-03-06T16:35:43.978+11:00Passing SonglinesThoughts by famous writers on their birthdays...Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-79027922309553726622018-01-06T09:44:00.000+11:002018-01-07T09:44:25.019+11:00Kahlil Gibran<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrDMI9AWkQc_cvcjlVF5ZnaYL35Z7sbBmCgLhIX4OVR01vLLUL42dgiwquGrTEIYKAg3CwM3xTZ3fHafpP5vE-4g9klVD2tkcL_nAOrTxF-g-9A3HjTX5XmosEpWLt6jVD1noXv45Ic4/s1600/kahlil_gibran_by_priapo40-d503es5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="900" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrDMI9AWkQc_cvcjlVF5ZnaYL35Z7sbBmCgLhIX4OVR01vLLUL42dgiwquGrTEIYKAg3CwM3xTZ3fHafpP5vE-4g9klVD2tkcL_nAOrTxF-g-9A3HjTX5XmosEpWLt6jVD1noXv45Ic4/s640/kahlil_gibran_by_priapo40-d503es5.jpg" width="640" /></a>Source: <a href="https://priapo40.deviantart.com/art/Kahlil-Gibran-302490005">Priapro40 on Deviant Art</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/kahlil-gibran">Kahlil Gibran</a><br />
Born: 6 January, 1883 - Lebanon<br />
Died: 10 April 1931 - New York, U.S.A.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
writer<br />
poet<br />
visual artist<br />
philosopher<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.</i><br />
<complete id="goog_185992315">+</complete><br />
<i>Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have found the soul walking upon my path." For the soul walks upon all paths.</i><br />
- <i>The Prophet</i> (1923) - never been out of print<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>My enemy said to me, "Love your enemy." And I obeyed him and loved myself.</i><br />
- <i>Spiritual Sayings of Kahlil Gibran </i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>When Life does not find a singer to sing her heart she produces a philosopher to speak her mind.</i><br />
- <i>Sand and Foam</i> (1926)</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-70316387628532473122018-01-01T19:35:00.002+11:002018-01-01T19:35:25.287+11:00Arthur Hugh Clough<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsr3A1rJ6DkPyzyyjSwpdfUrXfcJJPtPwHwlhSAoY7DNNtB_xAtuHXYEBt-1ZyN26aSkJsvhnANvdZvJ_aH_SWbkjkgqSzxSQI_y7-f7_U-qaqrFA0uy0gQsNYMSIlHZ1q8TLLF66LUTE/s1600/arthur-hugh-clough.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="448" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsr3A1rJ6DkPyzyyjSwpdfUrXfcJJPtPwHwlhSAoY7DNNtB_xAtuHXYEBt-1ZyN26aSkJsvhnANvdZvJ_aH_SWbkjkgqSzxSQI_y7-f7_U-qaqrFA0uy0gQsNYMSIlHZ1q8TLLF66LUTE/s400/arthur-hugh-clough.jpg" width="400" /></a>
<br />
Source: <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/arthur-hugh-clough">Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/clough/bio.html">Arthur Hugh Clough</a><br />
Born: 1 January, 1819 - Liverpool, U.K.<br />
Died: 13 November, 1861 - Florence, Italy<br />
<br />
<br />
poet<br />
educationalist<br />
assistant to Florence Nightingale<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there</i><br />
<i>In small bright specks upon the visible side</i><br />
<i>Of our strange being’s party-coloured web.
</i><br />
- <i>The Thread of Truth</i> (1839)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Grace is given of God, but knowledge is bought in the market;</i><br />
<i>Knowledge needful for all, yet cannot be had for the asking.</i><br />
- <i>The Bothie of Tober-na-vuolich</i>, Pt. IV (1848)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>No graven images may be</i><br />
<i>Worshipped, except the currency.</i><br />
- <i>The Latest Decalogue</i>, l. 3-4 (1862)</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-44858731372408181672017-12-31T20:40:00.001+11:002017-12-31T20:40:23.938+11:00Roy Sydney Porter<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSgqLKTdy29B4tJAZl-eQNga_oJ4d-F8Jkbq1LlNw6sCmBMB9UQDcOIBt469vAYU2k41P5gOyTIQuXx90jCV7Unx4k7JGpPvC4k4_5wGyhszTE8nPYnxyPvdytyNzNzsg54TOnHa6hPE/s1600/Roy+Sydney+Porter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="151" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSgqLKTdy29B4tJAZl-eQNga_oJ4d-F8Jkbq1LlNw6sCmBMB9UQDcOIBt469vAYU2k41P5gOyTIQuXx90jCV7Unx4k7JGpPvC4k4_5wGyhszTE8nPYnxyPvdytyNzNzsg54TOnHa6hPE/s320/Roy+Sydney+Porter.jpg" width="212" /></a><br />
<a href="https://alchetron.com/Roy-Porter#-">Roy Sydney Porter</a><br />
Born: 31 December, 1946 - London, UK<br />
Died: 3 March, 2002 - St Leonards-on-Sea, UK<br />
<br />
<br />
historian - wrote or edited over 100 books<br />
academic<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>I wish to explore what mad people meant to say, what was on their minds. Their testimonies are eloquent of their hopes
and fears, the injustices they suffered, above all of what it was like to be mad or to be thought to be mad … My points of reference, therefore, are language, history and culture.</i><br />
<complete id="goog_935713665">+</complete><br />
<i>In the culture of madness ‘reality’ and ‘representations’ endlessly played off each other. What a crazy world in which the poor had to pretend to be mad in order to get a crust!</i><br />
+<br />
<i>Every age gets the lunatics it deserves.</i><br />
- <i>A Social History of Madness: Stories of the Insane </i>(1987)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>The emergence of this high-tech scientific medicine may be a prime example of what William Blake denounced as 'single vision', the kind of myopia which (literally and metaphorically) comes from looking doggedly down a microscope. Single vision has its limitations in explaining the human condition; this is why Coleridge called doctors 'shallow animals', who 'imagine that in the whole system of things there is nothing but Gut and Body'.</i><br />
- <i>The Greatest Benefit to Mankind: A Medical History of Humanity</i> (1997)
</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-74474399434727786222017-12-30T10:01:00.000+11:002017-12-31T19:53:26.481+11:00Rudyard Kipling<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirB6pwViwgGj4Bmx9IYlwNKiPbcBaeWCqZllUlNbF8V6qme5UO6lSJigQRgYDsLk6wxrQYXDezakJoeEL4Qol0dTqA44Jqt9xDrCHISAMNiu93sRXGrto5eLp0N7lJNlO0c1H6UhFKhOE/s1600/rudyard-kipling2x2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="462" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirB6pwViwgGj4Bmx9IYlwNKiPbcBaeWCqZllUlNbF8V6qme5UO6lSJigQRgYDsLk6wxrQYXDezakJoeEL4Qol0dTqA44Jqt9xDrCHISAMNiu93sRXGrto5eLp0N7lJNlO0c1H6UhFKhOE/s400/rudyard-kipling2x2.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
Source: <a href="https://www.haileybury.com/explore/about-us/heritage-archives/notable-haileyburians/three-great-names/rudyard-kipling">Explore Haileybury</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/rudyard-kipling">Rudyard Kipling</a><br />
Born: 30 December, 1865 - Bombay, India<br />
Died: 18 January, 1936 - London England<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
poet<br />
short story writer<br />
journalist<br />
war correspondent - Boer War, South Africa<br />
Nobel Prize winner - 1907<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,</i><br />
<i>Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,</i><br />
<i>If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,</i><br />
<i>If all men count with you, but none too much;</i><br />
<i>If you can fill the unforgiving minute</i><br />
<i>With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,</i><br />
<i>Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,</i><br />
<i>And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!</i><br />
- <i>If</i> (1896)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>If any question why we died,</i><br />
<i>Tell them, because our fathers lied.
</i><br />
- <i>Epitaphs of War - Common Form</i> (1914-18)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>God of our fathers, known of old,</i><br />
<i>Lord of our far-flung battle line,</i><br />
<i>Beneath whose awful hand we hold</i><br />
<i>Dominion over palm and pine—</i><br />
<i>Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,</i><br />
<i>Lest we forget—lest we forget!</i><br />
- <i>Recessional</i> (1897)<br />
- Originally published in the <i>Times of London</i> for Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>I keep six honest serving-men: </i><br />
<i>(They taught me all I knew) </i><br />
<i>Their names are What and Where and When </i><br />
<i>And How and Why and Who.
</i><br />
- <i>Just So Stories - The Elephant's Child</i> (1902)</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-72796491479886996932017-12-26T17:06:00.000+11:002017-12-31T19:52:35.052+11:00Thomas Gray<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDvkE22_Zje8-q7Syhj2naj9CV0ExQEmWb5mEH8Npbn3yD_c_0ITEDFdTnMCLN-H0gD3b-ph731d6Oll9Vd_ln-eeb5H8e1TB1PWwBmvMFmOzuWq5kWgEE73N4aTb_U6udtPhDihvx0I/s1600/GrayTh1716_full_NPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="642" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDvkE22_Zje8-q7Syhj2naj9CV0ExQEmWb5mEH8Npbn3yD_c_0ITEDFdTnMCLN-H0gD3b-ph731d6Oll9Vd_ln-eeb5H8e1TB1PWwBmvMFmOzuWq5kWgEE73N4aTb_U6udtPhDihvx0I/s400/GrayTh1716_full_NPG.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.thomasgray.org/resources/bio.shtml">Thomas Gray </a><br />
<i>He was unquestionably one of the least productive and yet, besides <a href="https://passingsonglines.blogspot.com.au/2017/12/william-collins.html">William Collins</a> (1721-1759), </i><br />
<i>the predominant poetic figure of the middle decades of the 18th century.</i><br />
Born: 26 December, 1716 - London<br />
Died: 30 July, 1771<br />
<br />
<br />
poet<br />
letter-writer<br />
classical scholar<br />
professor at Pembroke College, Cambridge.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>THE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, </i><br />
<i> The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, </i><br />
<i> The plowman homeward plods his weary way, </i><br />
<i> And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
</i><br />
- <i>Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard</i> (1751)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, </i><br />
<i>While proudly riding o'er the azure realm </i><br />
<i>In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; </i><br />
<i>Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; </i><br />
<i>Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, </i><br />
<i>That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
</i><br />
- <i>The Bard</i> (1757)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Hark, his hands the lyre explore!</i><br />
<i>Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o'er</i><br />
<i>Scatters from her pictured urn</i><br />
<i>Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
</i><br />
- <i>The Progress of Poesy</i> (1754)<br />
<b>NOTE: Many record the last line as a single quote:</b><br />
<i><b>Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.</b></i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-15124228151397773292017-12-25T18:54:00.000+11:002017-12-30T08:58:45.120+11:00William Collins<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDd7xaLN9kv6_-6-vK5-dhYek8raHxvXaZqeWWCtGW2KIbqqiZ69zphew2P4hyn-BlKZQsCZicTBKAOEDLkolzpQ1EZT9Zoljs-6eHVIJqXHmfk0ZLLI15-ikhteUnPJBggKyBefqCRQ/s1600/collins-william-image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDd7xaLN9kv6_-6-vK5-dhYek8raHxvXaZqeWWCtGW2KIbqqiZ69zphew2P4hyn-BlKZQsCZicTBKAOEDLkolzpQ1EZT9Zoljs-6eHVIJqXHmfk0ZLLI15-ikhteUnPJBggKyBefqCRQ/s1600/collins-william-image.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://www.famousbirthdays.com/people/william-collins.html">Source of Image</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://biography.yourdictionary.com/william-collins">William Collins</a><br />
Born: December 25, 1721 - England<br />
Died: June 12, 1759<br />
(He was institutionalised in 1754 with mental illness)<br />
<br />
<br />
poet<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>With eyes raised up, as one inspired,</i><br />
<i>Pale Melancholy sate retired</i><br />
<i>And from her wild sequestered seat</i><br />
<i>In notes by distance made more sweet</i><br />
<i>Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul.</i><br />
- <i>The Passions, An Ode for Music</i> (1774)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part;</i><br />
<i>Nature in him was almost lost in Art.</i><br />
- <i>To Sir Thomas Hammer on his Edition of Shakespeare</i> (1743)<br />
(Sir Thomas Hammer (1677–1746) was a member of parliament from 1701 to 1727,<br />
and was appointed speaker in 1714.)<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>NOTE</b><br />
25th December 1863, William Makepeace Thackeray died in London</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-25419675462378274752017-01-02T10:00:00.000+11:002017-12-25T18:54:33.505+11:00Isaac Asimov<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYdxgk39Ugdj5S_sOd7fIt8H-p93GUwhAmIis0d3U7QYCX3vfm5yjq9ihrWKLNDYTMEa5Fk6k0WCpJw3YZ0AFCae0aLYeHmlJUlwE-v_DMfoSz5n9PvxQkS9OaDHXjl833oBr3UrI0rk/s1600/isaac-asimov.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYdxgk39Ugdj5S_sOd7fIt8H-p93GUwhAmIis0d3U7QYCX3vfm5yjq9ihrWKLNDYTMEa5Fk6k0WCpJw3YZ0AFCae0aLYeHmlJUlwE-v_DMfoSz5n9PvxQkS9OaDHXjl833oBr3UrI0rk/s400/isaac-asimov.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.famousauthors.org/isaac-asimov">Source</a> of image<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.famousauthors.org/isaac-asimov">Isaac Asimov</a><br />
Born: January 2nd, 1920 - Petrovichi, Russia<br />
Died: April 6th, 1992 - New York City, U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
short story writer<br />
non-fiction writer<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Any planet is 'Earth' to those that live on it.
</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>There never can be a man so lost as one who is lost in the vast and intricate corridors of his own lonely mind, where none may reach and none may save.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Of course there are worlds. Millions of them! Every star you see has worlds, and most of those you don't see.</i><br />
<i>- Pebble in the Sky</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The first problem of living is to minimize friction with the crowds that surround you on all sides.
</i><br />
<i>- The Caves of Steel</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>You show me someone who can't understand people and I'll show you someone who has built up a false image of himself.
</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>It seems to me, Golan, that the advance of civilization is nothing but an exercise in the limiting of privacy.</i><br />
<i>- Foundation's Edge</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Isn't it sad that you can tell people that the ozone layer is being depleted, the forests are being cut down, the deserts are advancing steadily, that the greenhouse effect will raise the sea level 200 feet, that overpopulation is choking us, that pollution is killing us, that nuclear war may destroy us - and they yawn and settle back for a comfortable nap. But tell them that the Martians are landing, and they scream and run.
</i><br />
<i>- The Secret of the Universe</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>You can prove anything you want by coldly logical reason---if you pick the proper postulates.
</i><br />
<i>- I, Robot</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-90187624539754330372017-01-01T19:42:00.001+11:002017-01-01T19:59:38.654+11:00J. D. Salinger<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTP-pvIt5XgfzHFXV5zymMNSBQcOaJ3-Bb5z3TzZbI-RN9Zgyq_FZRo6JSg5wENAXc6H4P6f0tYy5Olhro5Z8AjauYPd8G5cFsYHI-dDSIOyqXWkLccEh08NoWQuPX5iQw5eC4TpdkxA/s1600/J.D.Salinger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTP-pvIt5XgfzHFXV5zymMNSBQcOaJ3-Bb5z3TzZbI-RN9Zgyq_FZRo6JSg5wENAXc6H4P6f0tYy5Olhro5Z8AjauYPd8G5cFsYHI-dDSIOyqXWkLccEh08NoWQuPX5iQw5eC4TpdkxA/s320/J.D.Salinger.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://mtviewmirror.com/children-in-the-rye/">Source of image</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.thefamouspeople.com/profiles/jerome-david-salinger-1689.php">J. D. Salinger</a><br />
Born: January 1st, 1919 - New York City, U.S.<br />
Died: January 27th, 2010 - New Hampshire, U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
short story writer<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.
</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>I don't exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Know your true measurements and dress your mind accordingly</i><br />
<i>- Catcher in the Rye</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The fact is always obvious much too late, but the most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy a liquid.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They're always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions.
</i><br />
<i>- Nine Stories</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>He said I was unequipped to meet life because I had no sense of humor.
</i><br />
<i>- For Esme - With Love and Squalor, and Other Stories</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody.
</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's.</i><br />
<i>- Franny and Zooey</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>I have so much I want to tell you, and nowhere to begin.</i><br />
<i>+ </i><br />
<i>The true poet has no choice of material. The material plainly chooses him, not he it. </i><br />
<i>- Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction
</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-90200367677450002112016-12-25T21:37:00.000+11:002016-12-25T21:38:10.296+11:00Justin Trudeau<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghG0Wo5e56Rys5fHjs_v7HqEylR0ssonIjBLnFB-27upYE0fHWhOKzJphmViwrJ-vnEzvEcSeQ8wa033n3W6gCCm79eJ1faeV8i0Q1ueo5X2XvHnghKYN-Pa6Cqj_kv4LYSxz5JZ53VvM/s1600/Justin+Trudeau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghG0Wo5e56Rys5fHjs_v7HqEylR0ssonIjBLnFB-27upYE0fHWhOKzJphmViwrJ-vnEzvEcSeQ8wa033n3W6gCCm79eJ1faeV8i0Q1ueo5X2XvHnghKYN-Pa6Cqj_kv4LYSxz5JZ53VvM/s640/Justin+Trudeau.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
(source - <i>Montreal Gazette</i> 15.1.16)<br />
<a href="http://www.biography.com/people/justin-trudeau">Justin Trudeau</a><br />
Born: December 25th, 1971 - Ottawa, Canada<br />
<br />
<br />
writer<br />
Published <i>Common Ground</i> - October 2014<br />
teacher<br />
Prime Minister of Canada (2015- )<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>My idea of freedom is that we should protect the rights of people to believe what their conscience dictates, but fight equally hard to protect people from having the beliefs of others imposed upon them.
</i><br />
<i>- Common Ground</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I would agree that encyclopedia’s could teach me facts, but only a great story could transport me into the mind of another person. These stories taught me about empathy, about good and evil, about love and sorrow. My tastes covered many different genres, but the books I loved most proposed the idea that ordinary people (not to mention hobbits) are born with the capability to do extraordinary, even heroic things. The realization came as a sort of code to all the lessons my parents had taught me about looking beyond wealth and appearances, and appreciating the worth of everyone I met.
It’s a lesson that sticks with me to this day. No real leader can see the people around them as static creatures. If you cannot see the potential in the people around you, it’s impossible to rouse them to great things.
</i><br />
<i>- Common Ground</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>For me, to represent people who represent the future of Canada and the great challenges we will face over the coming decades — this is where I wanted to start. … I'm a teacher; I'm a convenor; I'm a gatherer; I'm someone who reaches out to people and is deeply interested in what they have to say. And people see that I'm not faking it. I'm actually genuinely committed to this dialogue that we're opening up, and this understanding that needs to happen in order to be an effective MP. </i><br />
- speech on winning his riding nomination in Quebec, 2007<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>I am a feminist. I’m proud to be a feminist.</i><br />
Justin Trudeau's Tweet 22.9.15<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Facts may fuel a leader’s intellect. But literature fuels the soul.
</i><br />
<i>- Common Ground</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-68480203571876158302016-10-31T18:56:00.000+11:002016-10-31T18:57:15.725+11:00John Keats...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_ytIexek_gnjiYkKZWlHQzPRVCQ7CZhbLLTVbJzVs3chdvhH1VXGZkEBnHt2l7jQdhSSX2wBegMnxAIA4O8pvR7J0E5bCcIv_whcol8pNXJRUUH3ZNTRcmMS_ppZ47EbDFhI-_TiMXE/s1600/KeatsColor.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_ytIexek_gnjiYkKZWlHQzPRVCQ7CZhbLLTVbJzVs3chdvhH1VXGZkEBnHt2l7jQdhSSX2wBegMnxAIA4O8pvR7J0E5bCcIv_whcol8pNXJRUUH3ZNTRcmMS_ppZ47EbDFhI-_TiMXE/s1600/KeatsColor.gif" /></a><br />
John Keats
<br />
Born: October 31st, 1795 - London, U.K.<br />
Died: February 23rd, 1821 - Rome, Italy<br />
<br />
<br />
poet<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all </i><br />
<i> Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.</i><br />
<i>- Ode on a Grecian Urn</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness </i><br />
<i>- Ode to Autumn</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>I met a lady in the meads, </i><br />
<i>Full beautiful, a faery's child: </i><br />
<i>Her hair was long, her foot was ligh, </i><br />
<i>And her eyes were wild. </i><br />
<i>- La Belle Dame Sans Merci</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>This living hand, now warm and capable</i><br />
<i>Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold</i><br />
<i>And in the icy silence of the tomb,</i><br />
<i>So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights</i><br />
<i>That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood,</i><br />
<i>So in my veins red life might stream again,</i><br />
<i>And thou be conscience-calm'd.</i><br />
<i>See, here it is --</i><br />
<i>I hold it towards you --</i><br />
Keats scribbled the lines hastily on the back of a longer work he was writing in December 1819.<br />
It is probably the last poem he ever wrote...<br />
More details on this poem so connected with Halloween mysteries <a href="http://articles.mcall.com/1995-10-31/news/3065974_1_keats-poem-quintessential-poet">HERE</a>...<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>I will clamber through the clouds and exist. </i><br />
- Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends
</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-66488236927210762252016-10-16T11:12:00.000+11:002016-10-16T11:13:44.219+11:00Oscar Wilde...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBoTwLpT6nx_T-Kl_fsVcwnyGaGD8WDV6LW6QnsVz7fpKO7lFIosVqY-HUMu2CeO-6Q4W_BAbkxEEsv0B5stwuw_3I336obKTwnPItJRchrcRugV3QuB-RBj6dRMG0nGgUcMeCtkkYMI/s1600/Oscar+Wilde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBoTwLpT6nx_T-Kl_fsVcwnyGaGD8WDV6LW6QnsVz7fpKO7lFIosVqY-HUMu2CeO-6Q4W_BAbkxEEsv0B5stwuw_3I336obKTwnPItJRchrcRugV3QuB-RBj6dRMG0nGgUcMeCtkkYMI/s640/Oscar+Wilde.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.wilde-online.info/oscar-wilde-biography.htm">Oscar Wilde </a><br />
Born: October 16th, 1854 - Dublin, Ireland<br />
Died: November 30th, 1900 - Paris, France<br />
<br />
<br />
playwright<br />
novelist<br />
poet<br />
essayist<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>The truth is rarely pure and never simple.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>If I am occasionally a little over-dressed, I make up for it by being always immensely over-educated.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.
</i><br />
<i>- The Importance of Being Earnest</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>I can resist anything except temptation.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious.</i><br />
<i>- Lady Windermere's Fan</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.
Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.
</i><br />
<i>- The Picture of Dorian Gray</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.</i><br />
<i>- A Woman of No Importance</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The only people I would care to be with now are artists and people who have suffered: those who know what beauty is, and those who know what sorrow is: nobody else interests me.
</i><br />
<i>- De Profundis</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>There is no sin except stupidity.
</i><br />
<i>- The Critic as Artist </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A writer is someone who has taught his mind to misbehave.</i><br />
- source???</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-12246719570975587122016-10-07T11:08:00.000+11:002016-10-08T11:08:56.009+11:00Thomas Keneally...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcideRebKUZfSzPGmqOLVELO3hZ1z5bwz1zajr3XmlJ-SCf5jg-Pvtz-yMNoGqNyahK3ew1vk-kf0ImzJ84UJl4dwREz8NUKBqN3RDCVmO2P4rMGQuKzjs6OrA1RzIj9d6cNhtnPl6us/s1600/Thomas+Keneally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcideRebKUZfSzPGmqOLVELO3hZ1z5bwz1zajr3XmlJ-SCf5jg-Pvtz-yMNoGqNyahK3ew1vk-kf0ImzJ84UJl4dwREz8NUKBqN3RDCVmO2P4rMGQuKzjs6OrA1RzIj9d6cNhtnPl6us/s1600/Thomas+Keneally.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/keneally/keneally.html">Thomas Keneally </a><br />
Born: October 7th, 1935 - Sydney, Australia
<br />
<br />
<br />
Booker Prize<br />
Miles Franklin Award - twice<br />
Order of Australia - 1983<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
playwright<br />
non-fiction writer<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Oskar showed that virtue emerged where it would, and the sort of churchy observance bishops called for was not a guarantee of genuine humanity in a person.</i><br />
<i>- Searching for Schindler: A Memoir</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The afternoon is hot in this alien forest. The sunlight burrows like a worm in both eye-balls. His jacket looks pallid, the arms are rotted out of his yellowing shirt, and, under the gaiters, worn for the occasion, the canvas shoes are too light for this knobbly land. Yet, as already seen, he takes long strides, he moves with vigour. He’s on his way to Mr Commissary Blythe’s place, where his secret bride, Ann Rush, runs the kitchen and the house.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>The Whales came back in white froth, and went again; back and went again. Whenever they went, they whacked the water with what looked like wrath in such big creatures. Yet perhaps it was horror. Whichever way, men disappeared amongst curds of angry water . . . the creatures did not come back the third time.
</i><br />
<i>- Bring Larks and Heroes</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The dogs were really keening now, like Irish widows.</i><br />
<i>- Victim of the Aurora</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>In the mind of a true snob there are certain limited criteria to denote the value of human existence. Jimmie's criteria were: home, hearth, wife, land. Those who possessed these had beatitude unchallengable. Other men had accidental, random life. Nothing better.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>The truest crime remaining to him to commit was the waste of love. It should be bequeathed, as land is.</i><br />
<i>- The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire. </i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>The principle was, death should not be entered like some snug harbor. It should be an unambiguous refusal to surrender.
</i><br />
<i>- Schindler's List</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-34961869511820138512016-10-05T21:06:00.000+11:002016-10-05T21:06:05.257+11:00Denis Diderot...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8nhvzxPq19eTFPxNCX08N-w4otpSS45N95JXkHsEG10KHE87RravJ86_jHpSt28PknVw_RKSRiM5BVZpBYSDMbYhMaEBhsTgOK20Ijs5hg_G1eEgWPwgqxv5cCkZ-RrEfbAjl1Zwpb4/s1600/Denis+Diderot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8nhvzxPq19eTFPxNCX08N-w4otpSS45N95JXkHsEG10KHE87RravJ86_jHpSt28PknVw_RKSRiM5BVZpBYSDMbYhMaEBhsTgOK20Ijs5hg_G1eEgWPwgqxv5cCkZ-RrEfbAjl1Zwpb4/s320/Denis+Diderot.png" width="229" /></a><br />
<a href="https://theconversation.com/denis-diderot-and-science-enlightenment-to-modernity-15040">Denis Diderot</a><br />
Born: October 5th, 1713 - Langres, France<br />
Died: July 31st, 1784 - Paris, France<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
playwright<br />
philosopher<br />
art critic<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>For me, my thoughts are my prostitutes. </i><br />
<i>- Le neveu de Rameau </i><br />
<br />
<i>There's a bit of testicle at the bottom of our most sublime feelings and our purest tenderness.</i><br />
- Letter to Étienne Noël Damilaville (1760-11-03)<br />
<br />
<i>I picture the vast realm of the sciences as an immense landscape scattered with patches of dark and light. The goal towards which we must work is either to extend the boundaries of the patches of light, or to increase their number. One of these tasks falls to the creative genius; the other requires a sort of sagacity combined with perfectionism.</i><br />
- <i>Thoughts on the Interpretation of Nature and Other Philosophical Works
</i><br />
<br />
"Spirit of the staircase" or "Staircase inspiration"...<br />
This phrase is a famous allusion to the witty remarks one thinks of when it is too late, as when one is leaving a meeting and going down the stairs.<br />
- <i>Paradoxe sur le Comédien </i>(1773-1777)<br />
<br />
<i>Scepticism is the first step towards truth. </i><br />
<i>- Pensées philosophiques </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br />
It is better to reveal a weakness than allow oneself be suspected of a vice. </i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Life is but a series of misunderstandings. </i><br />
<i>- Jacques the Fatalist
</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-43338967362696384962016-10-04T20:50:00.000+11:002016-10-04T20:50:34.976+11:00Edward Stratemeyer...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAPT5MQ3T0QLYYPO4cXs3C_4J31Spm_xgGAi9nF7mo0PwpGXhKk8gUi8I99mTwK8kl5hDfEYmDyVSmIB_JC8fkDStyyou1EdWtBVYWHh5R9oVC1GJzpyZhaalvAlpOlBHAMSsbr-vCLA/s1600/Edward+Stratemeyer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAPT5MQ3T0QLYYPO4cXs3C_4J31Spm_xgGAi9nF7mo0PwpGXhKk8gUi8I99mTwK8kl5hDfEYmDyVSmIB_JC8fkDStyyou1EdWtBVYWHh5R9oVC1GJzpyZhaalvAlpOlBHAMSsbr-vCLA/s1600/Edward+Stratemeyer.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="http://stratemeyer.org/">Edward Stratemeyer</a><br />
Born: October 4th, 1862 - New Jersey, U.S.<br />
Died May 10th, 1930 - New Jersey, U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
writer<br />
publisher<br />
<br />
<br />
author and founder of the Stratemeyer Syndicate,<br />
which published more than eighty juvenile fiction series from a stable of ghostwriters<br />
under a wealth of pseudonyms.<br />
Sratemeyer himself wrote under a number of pseudonyms and provided plot outlines for the ghostwriters.<br />
<br />
<br />
The juvemile series were mostly mystery stories and included;<br />
Nancy Drew - pen-name Carolyn Keene<br />
Hardy Boys - pen-name Frnklin W. Dixon<br />
Bobbsey Twins - pen-name Laura Lee Hope<br />
Rover Boys - pen-name Arthur W. Winfield</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-30483027108099948532016-10-03T19:39:00.003+11:002016-10-03T19:51:39.086+11:00Gore Vidal...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17-tgjVaLit87xetE9SMdozP-MS_nGa6yh4eqksZkWkyGICHwPjB0F9hcNS6Mp5C8poQYqH7rqI7uK1Lbg6TUfy37IeW4jbEWiScU10C26USqeGoMAp-R48wuM4LRsVqBX11yekikLiM/s1600/Gore+Vidal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17-tgjVaLit87xetE9SMdozP-MS_nGa6yh4eqksZkWkyGICHwPjB0F9hcNS6Mp5C8poQYqH7rqI7uK1Lbg6TUfy37IeW4jbEWiScU10C26USqeGoMAp-R48wuM4LRsVqBX11yekikLiM/s320/Gore+Vidal.jpg" width="239" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.biography.com/people/gore-vidal-39660">Gore Vidal</a><br />
Born: October 3rd, 1925 - New York, U.S.<br />
Died: July 31st, 2012 - California, U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
playwright<br />
essayist<br />
non-fiction writer<br />
screen-writer<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Interesting fact:</b> Vidal had bitter feuds with other authors, notably Truman Capote.<br />
See <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/books/authors/gore-vidal-and-his-bitter-feuds/">HERE</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>We affect one another quite enough merely by existing. Whenever the stars cross, or is it comets? fragments pass briefly from one orbit to another. On rare occasions there is total collision, but most often the two simply continue without incident, neither losing more than a particle to the other, in passing.</i><br />
<i>- The City and the Pillar</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Let the dust take me when the adventure's done and I shall make the dust glitter for all eternity with my marvelous fury.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>That my plans have lately gone somewhat awry is the sort of risk one must take if life is to be superb.
</i><br />
<i>- Myra Breckinridge</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>How marvelous books are, crossing worlds and centuries, defeating ignorance and, finally, cruel time itself. </i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>My memory plays me odd tricks these days [...] Age spares us nothing, old friend. Like ancient trees, we die from the top.
</i><br />
<i>- Julian</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>I have always regarded as a stroke of good fortune that I was not born or brought up in a small American town; they may be the backbone of the nation, but they are also the backbone of ignorance, bigotry, and boredom, all in vast quantities.
</i><br />
<i>- Death Before Bedtime</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>In fact, life itself is a contradiction if only because birth is the direct cause, in every single case, of death.</i><br />
<i>- Creation</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-4368118487714222622016-10-02T11:24:00.000+11:002016-10-02T11:24:20.969+11:00Graham Greene...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTo0OanE0FXlYxvAgiqNAMxLIszNgTiCSlVoRqXX9DkdM1xHE3UeP_sw3gt2KnCdjaXCGzp-O3QgA2HRqJ9FO_INXMVlul_yVR8fbeOAbKO9QRNGTZPlXTqiIjdeO9dBQhDJDZx6Os7I/s1600/Graham+Greene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTo0OanE0FXlYxvAgiqNAMxLIszNgTiCSlVoRqXX9DkdM1xHE3UeP_sw3gt2KnCdjaXCGzp-O3QgA2HRqJ9FO_INXMVlul_yVR8fbeOAbKO9QRNGTZPlXTqiIjdeO9dBQhDJDZx6Os7I/s320/Graham+Greene.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://greeneland.tripod.com/bio.htm">Graham Greene </a><br />
Born: October 2nd, 1904 - Berkhamstead, U.K.<br />
Died: April 3rd, 1991 - Vevey, Switzerland
<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
short story writer<br />
playwright<br />
travel writer<br />
screenplay writer<br />
critic<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Eternity is said not to be an extension of time but an absence of time.
</i><br />
<i>- The End of the Affair</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>He gave her a bright fake smile; so much of life was a putting off of unhappiness for another time.
</i><br />
<i>- The Heart of the Matter</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We never get accustomed to being less important to other people than they are to us.
</i><br />
<i>- The Third Man</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>It is always of interest to know what strikes another human being as remarkable.
</i><br />
<i>The Ministry of Fear</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>There was always another side to a joke, the side of the victim.
</i><br />
<i>- Our Man in Havana</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Hate is a lack of imagination.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>The world was in her heart already, like the small spot of decay in a fruit.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Oh well, perhaps when you're my age you'll know the heart is an untrustworthy beast.The mind too,but it doesn't talk about love.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>And when we love our sin then we are damned indeed.
</i><br />
<i>- The Power and the Glory</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>You cannot love without intuition.
</i><br />
<i>- The Quiet American</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-3309376858754102792016-10-01T22:07:00.003+10:002016-10-01T22:17:20.116+10:00Faith Baldwin...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT4yZ7zLu6Adiy6M-Jfwrz6fV6zteFUbxLZFUIARbx-BpPrP1Ko3COaJqmKq4QIdkUgd_XSfrBK5Wr3dglUEcpuBH3ofiOHhrzetlQdazw_TPgeugN4AnFxJaBUjOv54wxJKO7eczhliw/s1600/Faith+Baldwin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT4yZ7zLu6Adiy6M-Jfwrz6fV6zteFUbxLZFUIARbx-BpPrP1Ko3COaJqmKq4QIdkUgd_XSfrBK5Wr3dglUEcpuBH3ofiOHhrzetlQdazw_TPgeugN4AnFxJaBUjOv54wxJKO7eczhliw/s1600/Faith+Baldwin.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faith_Baldwin">Faith Baldwin</a> (wrote about 85 books - <i>New York Times</i> <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1978/03/19/archives/faith-baldwin-author-of-85-books-and-many-stories-is-dead-at-84-a.html">HERE</a>)<br />
Born: October 1st, 1893 - New York, U.S.<br />
Died: March 18th, 1978 - Connecticut, U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
short story writer<br />
poet<br />
magazine articles<br />
<br />
(special mentor to a child <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com.au/entry/faith-baldwin-mentor_b_921726">HERE</a>)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>All this makes me realize that miracles are everyday things. Not only the sudden, great good fortune, wafting in on a new wind from the sky. They are almost routine, yet miracles just the same.
</i><br />
<i>- Seasons of the Heart</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.
</i><br />
<i>- American Family</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>That coffee's strong enough to walk on.
</i><br />
<i>- Give Love the Air</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>You could get to the bottom of her mind in one dive. And rarely, if ever, come up with a pearl.
</i><br />
<i>- Something Special</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Kissing tends to bring on woolgathering, even amnesia.
</i><br />
<i>- One More Time</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The plan of Nature is progress and for any progress mankind must pay a price.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Life is rather like a long train ride; you may encounter a great many people, but looking out from your own small compartment of self you catch only a glimpse of other people's joy or despair.
</i><br />
<i>- Evening Star</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Sometimes there is a greater lack of communication in facile talking than in silence.</i><br />
<i>- Face Toward the Spring</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-25771631632931877422016-09-30T23:33:00.005+10:002016-09-30T23:39:53.321+10:00Truman Capote...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtq5Rf17M4o1EZ74kgj-vRZ0Wsx1Y5QznKrdU2sl4FSsUTSymQeJa6mScDqCBPpl9UzoJd92FhbYAyTpzCwVquqyBqrntW73U3mLHs5RuzDkhGnjvWhuLjTVfz-CIuhCp1zk2BQxDSZo/s1600/Truman+Capote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtq5Rf17M4o1EZ74kgj-vRZ0Wsx1Y5QznKrdU2sl4FSsUTSymQeJa6mScDqCBPpl9UzoJd92FhbYAyTpzCwVquqyBqrntW73U3mLHs5RuzDkhGnjvWhuLjTVfz-CIuhCp1zk2BQxDSZo/s320/Truman+Capote.jpg" width="320" /></a>
<br />
<a href="http://www.biography.com/people/truman-capote-9237547">Truman Capote</a>
<br />
Born: September 30th, 1924 - Louisianna, U.S.<br />
Died: August 25th, 1984 - California, U.S.
<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
short story writer<br />
playwright<br />
non-fiction writer<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>It’s better to look at the sky than live there.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Never love a wild thing...If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Everybody has to feel superior to somebody," she said. "But it's customary to present a little proof before you take the privilege.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Home is where you feel at home. I'm still looking.</i><br />
<i>- Breakfast at Tiffany's</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>It is no shame to have a dirty face- the shame comes when you keep it dirty.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Just remember: If one bird carried every grain of sand, grain by grain, across the ocean, by the time he got them all on the other side, that would only be the beginning of eternity.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Imagination, of course, can open any door - turn the key and let terror walk right in.
</i><br />
<i>- In Cold Blood</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>There were hints of sunrise on the rim of the sky, yet it was still dark, and the traces of morning color were like goldfish swimming in ink.
</i><br />
<i>- The Muses Are Heard</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Still, when all is said, somewhere one must belong: even the soaring falcon returns to its master's wrist.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Oh, I adore to cook. It makes me feel so mindless in a worthwhile way.
</i><br />
<i>- Summer Crossing</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>It's bad enough in life to do without something YOU want; but confound it, what gets my goat is not being able to give somebody something you want THEM to have.
</i><br />
<i>- A Christmas Memory </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.
</i><br />
<i>- Music for Chameleons</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-18278831047583323272016-09-29T17:14:00.002+10:002016-09-29T17:26:48.111+10:00Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRUPxR30i288GaV7Hm1t16xTV1POou6LEWMvrXI9uSquzysztbm53F-QPh-7Vjqo6lw7hj62IY0YHsxTXpWgpqFOej9lQfEMi2jgC03P73zSWdBYs2TRk1qRvtNPv5RAIIf5lIgIggc0/s1600/Miguel+de+Cervantes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRUPxR30i288GaV7Hm1t16xTV1POou6LEWMvrXI9uSquzysztbm53F-QPh-7Vjqo6lw7hj62IY0YHsxTXpWgpqFOej9lQfEMi2jgC03P73zSWdBYs2TRk1qRvtNPv5RAIIf5lIgIggc0/s320/Miguel+de+Cervantes.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.returnofkings.com/46879/cervantes-and-the-grandeur-of-spain">Miguel de Cervantes</a><br />
Born: September 29th, 1547 - Alcara de Hanares, Spain<br />
Died: April 22nd, 1616 - Madrid, Spain<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
poet<br />
playwright<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>The venerable old Don, despite all his human flaws and follies, possessed a nobility of purpose that redeemed the limitations of his powers. Spain honored him, loved him, and forgave him.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Virtue is persecuted by the wicked more than it is loved by the good.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Laughter distances us from that which is ugly and therefore potentially distressing, and indeed enables us to obtain paradoxical pleasure and therapeutic benefit from it.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Time has more power to undo and change things than the human will.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>It is one thing to write as poet and another to write as a historian: the poet can recount or sing about things not as they were, but as they should have been, and the historian must write about them not as they should have been, but as they were, without adding or subtracting anything from the truth.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Where there's music there can be no evil.</i><br />
<i>- The Life and Adventures of the Renowned Don Quixote de la Mancha </i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>NOTE</b><br />
2016 has been named ''Year of Shakespeare and Cervantes''.<br />
Both died 400 years ago in April, almost on the same day. (Shakespeare - April 23)</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-10307877808765695502016-09-28T20:21:00.000+10:002016-09-28T20:21:57.672+10:00Kate Douglas Wiggin...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bekDCi70mbo0MaBUQj4wd8zUffqpbCgxHdmz2y5YcWxaw9Ssoc2m1HDNhzDcuXv8GoVH2gOgpjIXItOEt_9Wux_gDkTChQFLm8ESYXSBP6ICHVfuisbVdO5XxMi9OXOiePRKxwrNopw/s1600/Kate+Douglas+Wiggin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bekDCi70mbo0MaBUQj4wd8zUffqpbCgxHdmz2y5YcWxaw9Ssoc2m1HDNhzDcuXv8GoVH2gOgpjIXItOEt_9Wux_gDkTChQFLm8ESYXSBP6ICHVfuisbVdO5XxMi9OXOiePRKxwrNopw/s1600/Kate+Douglas+Wiggin.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.nndb.com/people/814/000114472/">Kate Douglas Wiggin</a><br />
Born: September 28th, 1856 - Pennsylvania, U.S.<br />
Died: August 24th, 1923 - London, U.K.<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
children's story writer<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>To let blessed babies go dangling and dawdling without names, for months and months, was enough to ruin them for life.
</i><br />
<i>- The Bird's Christmas Carol</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>No whimpering, madam! You can't have the joys of motherhood without some of its pangs! Think of your blessings, and don't be a coward!—
</i><br />
<i>- Mother Carey's Chickens</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Lord, I do not ask that Thou shouldst give me wealth; only show me where it is, and I will attend to the rest.
</i><br />
<i>- Penelope's Progress</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>There are certain narrow, umimaginative, and autocratic old people who seem to call out the most mischievous and sometimes the worst traits in children.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World,</i><br />
<i>With the wonderful water round you curled,</i><br />
<i>And the wonderful grass upon your breast,</i><br />
<i>World, you are beautifully drest!
</i><br />
<i>- Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>There is a kind of magicness about going far away and then coming back all changed.
</i><br />
<i>- New Chronicles of Rebecca</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>If I haven't anything to write, I am just as anxious to 'take my pen in hand' as though I had a message to deliver, a cause to plead, or a problem to unfold. Nothing but writing rests me; only then do I seem completely myself! </i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Pictures made in childhood are painted in bright hues.
</i><br />
<i>- My Garden of Memory</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-32729634687194591552016-09-27T20:08:00.000+10:002016-09-30T23:09:45.644+10:00Josef Škvorecký...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hgEjpZOC8xHb5rcoNypR-yi3Xkv2En1dj2p54LML2FF_o8_WKet60epb2wCKJcIbsvFQSDCLZB_BChdcy0MJoVEllE2JS-0qeGTO1jRtReeQJhfOGI19DtO-eJmHescyEz1grMafBrE/s1600/Josef+Skvorecky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hgEjpZOC8xHb5rcoNypR-yi3Xkv2En1dj2p54LML2FF_o8_WKet60epb2wCKJcIbsvFQSDCLZB_BChdcy0MJoVEllE2JS-0qeGTO1jRtReeQJhfOGI19DtO-eJmHescyEz1grMafBrE/s1600/Josef+Skvorecky.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josef_%C5%A0kvoreck%C3%BD">Josef Škvorecký </a><br />
Born: September 27th, 1924 - Nachod, Czech Republic<br />
Died: Janurary 3rd, 2012 - Toronto, Canada<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
poet<br />
essayist<br />
non-fiction writer<br />
<br />
<br />
Regarded as a Czech-Canadian writer<br />
<i>I am a Czech and I am a loyal citizen of Canada</i>, he told an interviewer in 2006.<br />
(Ref NYT <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/05/arts/josef-skvorecky-czech-born-writer-dies-at-87.html?_r=0">HERE</a>)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>We may think we live for wisdom, but in fact we're living for the the pleasure wisdom brings us.
</i><br />
<i>- The Engineer of Human Souls</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>After sixty years of the Soviet state’s struggle against art, it should be obvious that Marxists in power do not trouble themselves about aesthetics.
</i><br />
<i>- Hipness at Noon</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>There’s this tradition in Czech literature that books are sacred, and therefore the language used in writing books is very formal—without contractions, distortions, or slang...</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Hemingway. I suddenly saw that you could write dialogue as people spoke it. But I didn’t read Hemingway until the end of the war in an English-language Swedish edition of A Farewell to Arms. And then I read everything. It opened my eyes. I realized that you could write dialogue that need not be informational; it simply was.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>If you live in a country where politics are oppressive and you write—or try to write—you can’t avoid being a political writer. I enjoy writing about other things, but to write a novel about Bohemia in the past forty years and avoid politics entirely would be to write some sort of romantic idyll that never existed. I consider myself a realistic writer; it’s unfortunate that one becomes a political writer out of necessity.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Every writer writes, first of all, for himself. I think my primary readership consists of intelligent exiles because I write about Czechs not only in Czechoslovakia, but also in North America as in my new novel, about the role of Czechs during the Civil War. But I believe that if something has relevance for people of my own nation, then it probably has relevance for everybody, and that there’s something universal about it. The accidentals may be different, but the basics are the same, and they’re universal.
</i><br />
- <a href="http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/2392/the-art-of-fiction-no-112-josef-skvorecky">Paris Review Interview - 1989</a> - but interview actually conducted 1985</div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-36851996897538167842016-09-26T12:29:00.001+10:002016-09-26T12:37:10.691+10:00T.S. Eliot...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNZ_DnY2ztXfEAxXUHPHg6PvnCiBRzNWkSBeNqKn9XljDLTm5YLwF201bCPF6QOEG7ZhLtCgkKOz-7tZubw31qhiGk_t-B_xuPRwOtgEBKNnip150maOL-cF4iz1eAoGWONfpvHr1UrQ/s1600/T.+S.+Eliot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNZ_DnY2ztXfEAxXUHPHg6PvnCiBRzNWkSBeNqKn9XljDLTm5YLwF201bCPF6QOEG7ZhLtCgkKOz-7tZubw31qhiGk_t-B_xuPRwOtgEBKNnip150maOL-cF4iz1eAoGWONfpvHr1UrQ/s320/T.+S.+Eliot.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.biography.com/people/ts-eliot-9286072">T.S. Eliot</a><br />
Born: September 26th, 1888 - Missouri, U.S.<br />
Died; January 4th, 1965 - London, U.K.
<br />
<br />
He became a British citizen in 1927
<br />
<br />
Nobel Prize in Literature - 1948
<br />
<br />
poet<br />
essayist<br />
playwright<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Let us go then, you and I,</i><br />
<i>When the evening is spread out against the sky</i><br />
<i>Like a patient etherised upon a table;</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>For I have known them all already, known them all—</i><br />
<i>Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,</i><br />
<i>I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
</i><br />
<i>- The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>We are the hollow men</i><br />
<i>We are the stuffed men</i><br />
<i>Leaning together</i><br />
<i>Headpiece filled with straw.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>This is the way the world ends</i><br />
<i>This is the way the world ends</i><br />
<i>This is the way the world ends</i><br />
<i>Not with a bang but a whimper.
</i><br />
<i>- The Hollow Men</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,</i><br />
<i>And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,</i><br />
<i>And the dry stone no sound of water.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>And I will show you something different from either</i><br />
<i>Your shadow at morning striding behind you</i><br />
<i>Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you</i><br />
<i>I will show you fear in a handful of dust
</i><br />
<i>- The Waste Land</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,</i><br />
<i>towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.
</i><br />
<i>- Four Quartets</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, </i><br />
<i>There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity. </i><br />
<i>He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare: </i><br />
<i>At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
</i><br />
<i>- Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The last act is the greatest treason. To do the right deed for the wrong reason.
</i><br />
<i>- Murder in the Cathedral</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-63347815856820808882016-09-25T17:17:00.000+10:002016-09-25T17:17:20.633+10:00William Faulkner...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEint8Dn3y_7vkC5gOKlxgIOA0VKmXOQjnbrFPzVix-7K0IUShH0nASq4gpce1y9f28rt3BLMZKNaCxZnXEgKaL5crDVXIXAPRmbk_BmOv6PqFZmb8kVnBnwLVWPohawLm_9k30pcpyTnQU/s1600/William+Faulkner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEint8Dn3y_7vkC5gOKlxgIOA0VKmXOQjnbrFPzVix-7K0IUShH0nASq4gpce1y9f28rt3BLMZKNaCxZnXEgKaL5crDVXIXAPRmbk_BmOv6PqFZmb8kVnBnwLVWPohawLm_9k30pcpyTnQU/s320/William+Faulkner.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.biography.com/people/william-faulkner">William Faulkner</a><br />
Born: September 25th, 1897 - Mississippi, U.S.<br />
Died: July 6th, 1962 - Mississippi, U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
short story writer<br />
playwright<br />
poet<br />
essayist<br />
<br />
<br />
Nobel Prize for Literature 1949<br />
Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 1955, 1963<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Caddy got the box and set it on the floor and opened it. It was full of stars. When I was still, they were still. When I moved, they glinted and sparkled. I hushed.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>And I will look down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water like wind, like a roof of wind, and after a long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and inviolate sand.</i><br />
<i>- The Sound and the Fury</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>I feel like a wet seed wild in the hot blind earth.
</i><br />
<i>- As I Lay Dying</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>She was the captain of her soul...</i><br />
<i>- Light in August</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>War is an episode, a crisis, a fever the purpose of which is to rid the body of fever. So the purpose of a war is to end the war.
</i><br />
<i>- A Fable</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief
</i><br />
<i>- The Wild Palms</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>...no man can cause more grief than the one clinging blindly to the vices of his ancesters.
</i><br />
<i>- Intruder in the Dust</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>If happy I can be I will, if suffer I must I can.
</i><br />
<i>- Absalom, Absalom!</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-89439435534558253872016-09-24T17:49:00.001+10:002016-09-25T16:45:05.503+10:00F. Scott Fitzgerald...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtS-e8lBL8ZcglTfmkVzrIMmJnPvSZcFl5KraCUEbhEKV8BJ6k3YZ3bhMwlGXeT408xzvBGHmv11aVuPH_5CKO3Nq0xBNCyck7KIhC37uBKxSitxyGnqsUUXaAFDrm4Ef6K6FgApU2fNo/s1600/F.+Scott+Fitzgerald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtS-e8lBL8ZcglTfmkVzrIMmJnPvSZcFl5KraCUEbhEKV8BJ6k3YZ3bhMwlGXeT408xzvBGHmv11aVuPH_5CKO3Nq0xBNCyck7KIhC37uBKxSitxyGnqsUUXaAFDrm4Ef6K6FgApU2fNo/s320/F.+Scott+Fitzgerald.jpg" width="248" /></a><br />
<a href="http://library.sc.edu/spcoll/fitzgerald/biography.html">F. Scott Fitzgerald</a><br />
Born: September 24th, 1896 - Minnesota, U.S.<br />
Died: December 21st, 1940 - California, U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
novelist<br />
short story writer<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>I love New York on summer afternoons when everyone's away. There's something very sensuous about it - overripe, as if all sorts of funny fruits were going to fall into your hands.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about.</i><br />
<i>- The Great Gatsby</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase--"I love you."</i><br />
<i>- The Offshore Pirate</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Receding from grief, it seems necessary to retrace the same steps that brought us there.
</i><br />
<i>- Tender is the Night</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.
</i><br />
<i>- The Crack-Up</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I simply state that I'm a product of a versatile mind in a restless generation — with every reason to throw my mind and pen in with the radicals.
</i><br />
<i>- This Side of Paradise</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Everybody's youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness.</i><br />
<i>- The Diamond as Big as the Ritz</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167547414338415456.post-72504697258254128102016-09-23T18:45:00.000+10:002016-09-23T18:45:03.115+10:00Augustus Caesar...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMtNR4ZTGFH8dkAqds8QxWC5Qlm4_hlr8IniYVSP-S5KAKyZbN6M9Y6IjxuoT2hst53CYRUmwmnG-_BcJpk4PDttUMk8G6w8mrZ-YxILr5pUc0aLBkXyzBFj_XQocUbKdlG8RS4o0mcA/s1600/Caesar+August.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMtNR4ZTGFH8dkAqds8QxWC5Qlm4_hlr8IniYVSP-S5KAKyZbN6M9Y6IjxuoT2hst53CYRUmwmnG-_BcJpk4PDttUMk8G6w8mrZ-YxILr5pUc0aLBkXyzBFj_XQocUbKdlG8RS4o0mcA/s320/Caesar+August.jpg" width="258" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.nndb.com/people/956/000087695/">Augustus</a> (first emperor of Rome)<br />
Born: September 23rd, 63B.C. - Rome, Italy<br />
Died; August 19th, 14A.D. - Nola, Italy<br />
<br />
<br />
poet<br />
autobiographer<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>At the age of nineteen, on my own initiative and at my own expense, I raised an army by means of which I restored liberty to the republic, which had been oppressed by the tyranny of a faction. For which service the senate, with complimentary resolutions, enrolled me in its order...
</i><br />
<i>+</i><br />
<i>Wars, both civil and foreign, I undertook throughout the world, on sea and land, and when victorious I spared all citizens who sued for pardon. The foreign nations which could with safety be pardoned I preferred to save rather than to destroy. </i><br />
<i>- Res Gestae Divi Augusti</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>I found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble.</i><br />
- Augustus' statement recorded by Suetonius (Roman historian) in <i>The Twelve Caesars</i></div>
Gemma Wisemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17466540188839321484noreply@blogger.com0