And a cheerier note struck by George Eliot in a letter: “Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
And a cheerier note struck by George Eliot in a letter: “Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."
Almost Dickensian
Mind, I have just been to her home town of Nuneaton – and I were a bird flying around the world seeking successive autumns, I might give that a miss.
One of my Dad's favorites:
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
Top stuff
Beautiful selections,possibly contrary to the atmosphere they brightened my day.So much to read so little time.
Isn’t the Naipaul sublime
Sparkling,so poetic that I wonder if it crosses the line to poetry.Technically I could be all sorts of wrong but that’s my impression.
Oh yeah he’s writing something like prose poetry to be sure
just read this for the first time
A gorgeous piece, which invites us to think of other examples. Virtuosity that's seemingly casual, inviting.
I bought this on the strength of your earlier recommendation. It’s all you say it is! Thank you
Thanks for this beautiful selection.
Beautiful! And poor Jane!