Quote

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

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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
Children
Longer
Hurrying
Feet
Beside
Sleep
Shared
Child
Runs
Woman
Foot
Running
Breath
Littles
Breaths
Little
Innocent

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Our fathers valued change for the sake of its results we value it in the act.
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I come from nothing: but from where come the undying thoughts I bear?
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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.
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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.
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A wall is the safeguard of simplicity.
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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.
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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.
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Childhood is but change made gay and visible.
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recurrence is sure. What the mind suffered last week, or last year, it does not suffer now but it will suffer again next week or next year. Happiness is not a matter of events it depends upon the tides of the mind.
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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.
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A child is beset with long traditions. And his infancy is so old, so old, that the mere adding of years in the life to follow will not seem to throw it further back -- it is already so far.
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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
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Rome in the ages, dimmed with all her towers, / Floats in the mist, a little cloud at tether.
Alice Meynell
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But, visiting Sea, your love doth press / And reach in further than you know, / And fills all these and, when you go, / There's loneliness in loneliness.
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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.
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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.
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The traveling heart went free / With endless streams that strife was stopped / And down a thousand vales I dropped, / I flowed to Italy.
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Solitude is separate experience.
Alice Meynell
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... I am dark but fair, / Black but fair.
Alice Meynell
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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