Henry James
Henry James
Henry James, OM15 April 1843 – 28 February 1916) was an American-born writer. He is regarded as one of the key figures of 19th-century literary realism. He was the son of Henry James, Sr. and the brother of philosopher and psychologist William James and diarist Alice James...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth15 April 1843
CityNew York City, NY
CountryUnited States of America
struggle effort may
I take up my own pen again - the pen of all my old unforgettable efforts and sacred struggles. To myself - today - I need say no more. Large and full and high the future still opens. It is now indeed that I may do the work of my life. And I will.
london form city-life
London is on the whole the most possible form of life.
children hate believe
To believe in a child is to believe in the future. Through their aspirations they will save the world. With their combined knowledge the turbulent seas of hate and injustice will be calmed.
fire house stories
The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be . . .
darkness lighthouse revolving
She is like a revolving lighthouse; pitch darkness alternating with a dazzling brilliancy!
children believe
To believe in a child is to believe in the Future.
art artist conscious
The artist beholds in nature more than she herself Nature is conscious of.
fashion two theatre
To treat a big subject in the intensely summarized fashion demanded by an evening's traffic of the stage when the evening, freely clipped at each end, is reduced to two hours and a half, is a feat of which the difficulty looms large.
land america would-be
If I were to live my life over again, I would be an American. I would steep myself in America, I would know no other land.
artist ideas criticism
We must grant the artist his subject, his idea, his donn´e: our criticism is applied only to what he makes of it.
kissing white sensual
His kiss was like white lightning, a flash that spread, and spread again, and stayed.
hands hints stories
The "germ," wherever gathered, has ever been for me, "the germ of a story," and most of the stories strained to shape under my hand have sprung from a single small seed, a seed as remote and windblown as a casual hint.
summer drawing shadow
It is indeed immensely picturesque. I can fancy sitting all a summer's day watching its shadows shorten and lengthen again, and drawing a delicious contrast between the world's duration and the feeble span of individual experience. There is something in Stonehenge almost reassuring; and if you are disposed to feel that life is rather a superficial matter, and that we soon get to the bottom of things, the immemorial gray pillars may serve to remind you of the enormous background of time.
tongue natural englishmen
An Englishman's never so natural as when he's holding his tongue.