Katherine Mansfield
Katherine Mansfield
Kathleen Mansfield Murrywas a prominent New Zealand modernist short story writer who was born and brought up in colonial New Zealand and wrote under the pen name of Katherine Mansfield. At 19, Mansfield left New Zealand and settled in the United Kingdom, where she became a friend of modernist writers such as D.H. Lawrence and Virginia Woolf. In 1917 she was diagnosed with extrapulmonary tuberculosis, which led to her death at the age of 34...
NationalityNew Zealander
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth14 October 1888
heart might greatest-love
You might drop your heart into me and you'd never hear it touch bottom.
tonight my-love-for-you greatest-love
My love for you tonight is so deep and tender that it seems to be outside myself as well.
laughter spring clouds
The fields are snowbound no longer; There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green. The snow has been caught up into the sky- So many white clouds-and the blue of the sky is cold. Now the sun walks in the forest, He touches the bows and stems with his golden fingers; They shiver, and wake from slumber. Over the barren branches he shakes his yellow curls. Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears.... A wind dances over the fields. Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter, Yet the little blue lakes tremble And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver.
beach lying dark
I love the night. I love to feel the tide of darkness rising, slowly and slowly washing, turning over and over, lifting, floating, all that lies strewn upon the dark beach, all that lies hid in rocky hollows.
journey order risk
Whenever I prepare for a journey I prepare as though for death. Should I never return, all is in order.
fear giving birth
To acknowledge the presence of fear is to give birth to failure.
failure laughing importance
It is of immense importance to learn to laugh at ourselves.
risk earth take-a-chance
Do the hardest thing on earth for you. ACT YOURSELF.
writing people trying
Would you not like to try all sorts of lives - one is so very small - but that is the satisfaction of writing - one can impersonate so many people.
swimming islands beef
England is merely an island of beef swimming in a warm gulf stream of gravy.
civilization body breastfeeding
How idiotic civilization is! Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle?
feelings pieces afternoon
What can you do if you are thirty and, turning the corner of your own street, you are overcome, suddenly, by a feeling of bliss - absolute bliss - as though you'd suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle into every finger and toe?...
summer cat winter
Winter is a terrible time for thin people - terrible! Why should it hound them down, fasten on them, worry them so? Why not, for a change, take a nip, take a snap at the fat ones who wouldn't notice? But no! It is sleek, warm, cat-like summer that makes the fat one's life a misery. Winter is all for bones ...
acceptance accepting
Everything in life that we really accept undergoes a change.