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Let us turn to our own childhoods-no further-if we will renew our sense of remoteness, and of the mystery of change.
Alice Meynell
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Alice Meynell
Age: 75 †
Born: 1847
Born: September 22
Died: 1922
Died: November 27
Essayist
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
Barnes
England
Alice Christiana Gertrude Meynell
Alice Christiana Gertrude Thompson
Turn
Turns
Sense
Change
Remoteness
Childhoods
Renew
Childhood
Mystery
More quotes by Alice Meynell
Children have a fastidiousness that time is slow to cure. It is to be wondered, for example, whether if the elderly were half as hungry as children are they would yet find so many things at table to be detestable.
Alice Meynell
With mimicry, with praises, with echoes, or with answers, the poets have all but outsung the bell. The inarticulate bell has found too much interpretation, too many rhymes professing to close with her inaccessible utterance, and to agree with her remote tongue. The bell, like the bird, is a musician pestered with literature.
Alice Meynell
We talk of sunshine and moonshine, but not of cloud-shine, which is yet one of the illuminations of our skies. A shining cloud is one of the most majestic of all secondary lights.
Alice Meynell
My day-mind can endure / Upright, in hope, all it must undergo. / But O, afraid, unsure, / My night-mind waking lies too low, too low.
Alice Meynell
Our fathers valued change for the sake of its results we value it in the act.
Alice Meynell
A wall is the safeguard of simplicity.
Alice Meynell
From the shaken tower A flock of bells take flight, And go with the hour.
Alice Meynell
Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn, Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers, And folded winds no blossom in the bowers A poet's face asleep in this grey morn. Now in the midst of the old world forlorn A mystic child is set in these still hours. I keep this time, even before the flowers, Sacred to all the young and the unborn.
Alice Meynell
The true colour of life is the colour of the body, the colour of the covered red, the implicit and not explicit red of the living heart and the pulses. It is the modest colour of the unpublished blood.
Alice Meynell
I come from nothing: but from where come the undying thoughts I bear?
Alice Meynell
She walks--the lady of my delight-- A sheperdess of sheep. Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white She guards them from the steep. She feeds them on the fragrant height, And folds them in for sleep.
Alice Meynell
I have known some grim bells, with not a single joyous note in the whole peal, so forced to hurry for a human festival, with their harshness made light of, as though the Bishop of Hereford had again been forced to dance in his boots by a merry highwayman.
Alice Meynell
Solitude is separate experience.
Alice Meynell
Spirit of place! It is for this we travel, to surprise its subtlety and where it is a strong and dominant angel, that place, seen once, abides entire in the memory with all its own accidents, its habits, its breath, its name.
Alice Meynell
the feet should have more of the acquaintance of earth, and know more of flowers, freshness, cool brooks, wild thyme, and salt sand than does anything else about us. ... It is only the entirely unshod that have lively feet.
Alice Meynell
O spring, I know thee! Seek for sweet surprise / In the young children's eyes. / But I have learnt the years, and know the yet / Leaf-folded violet.
Alice Meynell
Terrestrial scenery is much, but it is not all. Men go in search of it but the celestial scenery journeys to them it goes its way round the world. It has no nation, it costs no wearinesss, it knows no bonds.
Alice Meynell
There is no innocent sleep so innocent as sleep shared between a woman and a child, the little breath hurrying beside the longer, as a child's foot runs.
Alice Meynell
Play is not for every hour of the day, or for any hour taken at random. There is a tide in the affairs of children. Civilization is cruel in sending them to bed at the most stimulating time of dusk.
Alice Meynell
Spring and autumn are inconsiderable events in a landscape compared with the shadows of a cloud.
Alice Meynell