Quotes of Walter De La Mare - somelinesforyou

“ The Listeners 'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest's ferny floor. And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the Traveller's head: And he smote upon the door again a second time; 'Is there anybody there?' he said. But no one descended to the Traveller; No head from the leaffringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken By the lonely Traveller's call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness, Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, 'Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even Louder, and lifted his head: 'Tell them I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word,' he said. Never the least stir made the listeners, Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward, When the plunging hoofs were gone. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ After all, what is every man? A horde of ghosts – like a Chinese nest of boxes – oaks that were acorns that were oaks. Death lies behind us, not in front – in our ancestors, back and back until... ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ It was this mystery, bereft now of all fear, and this beauty together that made life the endless, changing and yet changeless, thing it was. And yet mystery and loveliness alike were really only appreciable with one's legs, as it were, dangling down over into the grave. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Who said, 'All Time's delight Hath she for narrow bed; Life's troubled bubble broken'? That's what I said. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Lear, Macbeth. Mercutio – they live on their own as it were. The newspapers are full of them, if we were only the Shakespeares to see it. Have you ever been in a Police Court? Have you ever watched tradesmen behind their counters? My soul, the secrets walking in the streets! You jostle them at every corner. There's a Polonius in every firstclass railway carriage, and as many Juliets as there are boardingschools. ... How inexhaustibly rich everything is, if you only stick to life. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ That's why I've just gone on … collecting this particular kind of stuff – what you might call riffraff. There's not a book here, Lawford, that hasn't at least a glimmer of the real thing in it – just Life, seen through a living eye, and felt. As for literature, and style, and all that gallimaufry, don't fear for them if your author has the ghost of a hint of genius in his making. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Who said, 'All Time's delight Hath she for narrow bed; Life's troubled bubble broken'? That's what I said. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ That's why I've just gone on … collecting this particular kind of stuff – what you might call riffraff. There's not a book here, Lawford, that hasn't at least a glimmer of the real thing in it – just Life, seen through a living eye, and felt. As for literature, and style, and all that gallimaufry, don't fear for them if your author has the ghost of a hint of genius in his making. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Ann, Ann! Come! quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Ann, Ann! Come! quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Ann, Ann! Come! quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ All day long the door of the sub-conscious remains just ajar; we slip through to the other side, and return again, as easily and secretly as a cat. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ All day long the door of the sub-conscious remains just ajar; we slip through to the other side, and return again, as easily and secretly as a cat. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ A lost but happy dream may shed its light upon our waking hours, and the whole day may be infected with the gloom of a dreary or sorrowful one; yet of neither may we be able to recover a trace. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ It's a very odd thing As odd as can be That whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ All day long the door of the sub-conscious remains just ajar; we slip through to the other side, and return again, as easily and secretly as a cat. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Oh, no man knowsThrough what wild centuriesRoves back the rose. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ It's a very odd thing As odd as can be That whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Ann, Ann! Come! quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Ann, Ann! Come! quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ A lost but happy dream may shed its light upon our waking hours, and the whole day may be infected with the gloom of a dreary or sorrowful one; yet of neither may we be able to recover a trace. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Ann, Ann! Come! quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ It's a very odd thing As odd as can be That whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Ann, Ann! Come! quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Oh, no man knowsThrough what wild centuriesRoves back the rose. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ It's a very odd thing As odd as can be That whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ A lost but happy dream may shed its light upon our waking hours, and the whole day may be infected with the gloom of a dreary or sorrowful one; yet of neither may we be able to recover a trace. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Oh, no man knowsThrough what wild centuriesRoves back the rose. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ Oh, no man knowsThrough what wild centuriesRoves back the rose. ”

- Walter de la Mare

“ All day long the door of the sub-conscious remains just ajar; we slip through to the other side, and return again, as easily and secretly as a cat. ”

- Walter de la Mare
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