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
hate names usa
I hate American simplicity. I glory in the piling up of complications of every sort. If I could pronounce the name James in any different or more elaborate way I should be in favor of doing it.
nice people leave-me-alone
People talk about the conscience, but it seems to me one must just bring it up to a certain point and leave it there. You can let your conscience alone if you're nice to the second housemaid.
artist choices faces
If we pretend to respect the artist at all we must allow him his freedom of choice , in the face, in particular cases, of innumerable presumptions that the choice will not fructify.
reality dear-life dear
We must for dear life make our own counter-realities.
fine oneself consequence
One is oneself a fine consequence.
eggs might done
It might seem that an egg which has succeeded in being fresh has done all that can reasonably be expected of it.
wonderful
There are women who are for all your 'times of life.' They're the most wonderful sort.
effort poetry mind
It exhibits the effort of an essentially prosaic mind to lift itself, by a prolonged muscular strain, into poetry.
savannah taste cups
I recall my fleeting instants in Savannah as the taste of a cup charged to the brim.
literature injury humans
To kill a human being is, after all, the least injury you can do him.
art philosophy inspirational-running
Art is nothing more than the shadow of humanity.
feet red-flags cash
London doesn't love the latent or the lurking, has neither time, nor taste, nor sense for anything less discernible than the red flag in front of the steam-roller. It wants cash over the counter and letters ten feet high.
past strange familiar
We are divided of course between liking to feel the past strange and liking to feel it familiar.
artist circles problem
Really, universally, relations stop nowhere, and the exquisite problem of the artist is eternally but to draw, by a geometry of his own, the circle within which they shall happily appear to do so.