Spoilt pleasure is a sad, unseemly thing; you can only bury it. Elizabeth Bowen More Quotes by Elizabeth Bowen More Quotes From Elizabeth Bowen When you love someone all your saved up wishes start coming out. Elizabeth Bowen crush love relationship Some people are molded by their admirations, others by their hostilities. Elizabeth Bowen personality character people We are minor in everything but our passions. Elizabeth Bowen minors passion literature we can surmount the anger we feel. To find oneself like a young tree inside a tomb is to discover the power to crack the tomb and grow up to any height. Elizabeth Bowen growing-up anger tree Certain books come to meet me, as do people. Elizabeth Bowen reading book people The most striking fault in work by young or beginning novelists, submitted for criticism, is irrelevance--due either to infatuation or indecision. To direct such an author's attention to the imperative of relevance is certainly the most useful--and possibly the only--help that can be given. Elizabeth Bowen irrelevance faults criticism The writer, unlike his non-writing adult friend, has no predisposed outlook; he seldom observes deliberately. He sees what he didnot intend to see; he remembers what does not seem wholly possible. Inattentive learner in the schoolroom of life, he keeps some faculty free to veer and wander. His is the roving eye. Elizabeth Bowen adults eye writing Silences can be as different as sounds. Elizabeth Bowen different silence sound Chance is better than choice; it is more lordly. Chance is God, choice is man. Elizabeth Bowen luck choices men Pity the selfishness of lovers: it is brief, a forlorn hope; it is impossible. Elizabeth Bowen selfishness impossible love Jane Austen, much in advance of her day, was a mistress of the use of the dialogue. She used it as dialogue should be used-to advance the story; not only to show the characters, but to advance. Elizabeth Bowen mistress writing character She had one of those charming faces which, according to the angle from which you see them, look either melancholy or impertinent. Her eyes were grey; her trick of narrowing them made her seem to reflect, the greater part of the time, in the dusk of her second thoughts. With that mood, that touch of arriere pensee, went an uncertain, speaking set of lips. Elizabeth Bowen eye faces looks Nothing arrives on paper as it started, and so much arrives that never started at all. To write is always to rave a little-even if one did once know what one meant Elizabeth Bowen paper writing littles I became, and remain, my characters' close and intent watcher: their director, never. Their creator I cannot feel that I was, or am. Elizabeth Bowen literature character directors Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat. Elizabeth Bowen fate destiny eagles Ghosts seem harder to please than we are; it is as though they haunted for haunting’s sake -- much as we relive, brood, and smoulder over our pasts. Elizabeth Bowen haunting sake past Good-byes breed a sort of distaste for whomever you say good-bye to; this hurts, you feel, this must not happen again. Elizabeth Bowen hurt goodbye inspirational Illusions are art, for the feeling person, and it is by art that we live, if we do. Elizabeth Bowen literature feelings art It is not helpful to help a friend by putting coins in his pockets when he has got holes in his pockets. Elizabeth Bowen pockets inspiration friendship It is not our exalted feelings, it is our sentiments that build the necessary home. Elizabeth Bowen emotions-feelings sentiments home
