Anthony Powell
Anthony Powell
Anthony Dymoke Powell CH CBEwas an English novelist best known for his twelve-volume work A Dance to the Music of Time, published between 1951 and 1975...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth21 December 1905
forget
We will never forget what he did for us.
dinner dramatic farce food possessed tragedy wine
Dinner at the Huntercombes possessed only two dramatic features: the wine was a farce and the food a tragedy
british-novelist
Growing old's like being increasingly penalized for a crime you haven't committed.
faith god speaks worked
It's more about faith and how God speaks to you and how it happens. I don't think I've worked on a play with such an even keel.
portraits process sat
Few persons who have ever sat for a portrait can have felt anything but inferior while the process is going on.
hands dexterity emotion
Slowly, but very deliberately, the brooding edifice of seduction, creaking and incongruous, came into being, a vast Heath Robinson mechanism, dually controlled by them and lumbering gloomily down vistas of triteness. With a sort of heavy-fisted dexterity the mutually adapted emotions of each of them became synchronized, until the unavoidable anti-climax was at hand.
misery tease greater
[T]here is no greater sign of innate misery than a love of teasing.
want pleasure given
There is, after all, no pleasure like that given by a woman who really wants to see you.
thinking people biographies
People think that because a novel's invented, it isn't true. Exactly the reverse is the case. Biography and memoirs can never be wholly true, since they cannot include every conceivable circumstance of what happened. The novel can do that.
confidence love-yourself unrequited-love
Self-love seems so often unrequited.
time
A dance to the music of time.
food wine two
Dinner at the Huntercombes' possessed only two dramatic features - the wine was a farce and the food a tragedy.
writing instinct
Writing is above all a question of instinct.
delicate-life vintage mind
He gave me a look of great contempt; as I supposed, for venturing, even by implication, to draw a parallel between a lack of affluence that might, literally, affect my purchase of rare vintages, and a figure of speech intended delicately to convey his own dire want for the bare necessities of life. He remained silent for several seconds, as if trying to make up his mind whether he could ever bring himself to speak to me again; and then said gruffly: 'I've got to go now.'