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To long for everything: sorrow to accept everything: joy.
Katherine Mansfield
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Katherine Mansfield
Age: 34 †
Born: 1888
Born: October 14
Died: 1923
Died: January 9
Diarist
Poet
Writer
Wellington
New Zealand
Katherine Mansfield Beauchamp Murry
Kathleen Murry
Katherine Beauchamp Mansfield
Kathleen Mansfield Murry
Sorrow
Accept
Accepting
Joy
Everything
Long
More quotes by Katherine Mansfield
Outside the sky is light with stars
Katherine Mansfield
To be alive and to be a ‘writer’ is enough.
Katherine Mansfield
Looking back, I imagine I was always writing. Twaddle it was too. But better far write twaddle or anything, anything, than nothing at all.
Katherine Mansfield
Can one do nothing for the dead? And for a long time the answer had been - Nothing!
Katherine Mansfield
No, no the mind I love must still have wild places - a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown litde wood, the chance of a snake or two (real snakes), a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with those litde flowers planted by the wind.
Katherine Mansfield
What happiness it is to listen to rain at night joyful relief, ease a lapping-round and hushing and brooding tenderness, all are mingled together in the sound of the fast-falling rain. God, looking down upon the rainy earth, sees how faint are these lights shining in little windows, - how easily put out.
Katherine Mansfield
Whatever happens I have had these blissful, perfect moments and they are worth living for.
Katherine Mansfield
I love the night. I love to feel the tide of darkness rising, slowly and slowly washing, turning over and over, lifting, floating, all that lies strewn upon the dark beach, all that lies hid in rocky hollows.
Katherine Mansfield
Winter is a terrible time for thin people - terrible! Why should it hound them down, fasten on them, worry them so? Why not, for a change, take a nip, take a snap at the fat ones who wouldn't notice? But no! It is sleek, warm, cat-like summer that makes the fat one's life a misery. Winter is all for bones.
Katherine Mansfield
Ach, Tchekov! Why are you dead? Why can’t I talk to you in a big darkish room at late evening—where the light is green from the waving trees outside? I’d like to write a series of Heavens: that would be one.
Katherine Mansfield
Do you remember your childhood? I am always coming across these marvelous accounts by writers who declare that they remember 'everything.' I certainly don't. The dark stretches, the blanks, are much bigger than the bright glimpses. I seem to have spent most of my time like a plant in a cupboard.
Katherine Mansfield
Perhaps it does not matter so very much what it is one loves in this world. But love something one must.
Katherine Mansfield
Yes, my mother's death is a terrible sorrow to me. I feel - do you know what I mean - the silence of it so. She was more alive than anyone I have ever known.
Katherine Mansfield
The mind I love must have wild places.
Katherine Mansfield
we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves.
Katherine Mansfield
The ostrich burying its head in the sand does at any rate wish to convey the impression that its head is the most important part of it.
Katherine Mansfield
If only one could tell true love from false love as one can tell mushrooms from toadstools.
Katherine Mansfield
The late evening is the time of times. Then with that unearthly beauty before one it is not hard to realise how far one has to go. To write something that will be worthy of that rising moon, that pale light.
Katherine Mansfield
The great thing to remember is we can do whatever we wish to do provided our wish is strong enough.
Katherine Mansfield
You are a Queen. Let mine be the joy of giving you your kingdom.
Katherine Mansfield
