Saturday, February 20, 2010

Brideshead Revisited Quotes

I went there uncertainly, for it was foreign ground and there was a tiny, priggish, warning voice in my ear which in the tones of Collins told me it was seemly to hold back. But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiosity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city.


I could tell him, too, that to know and love one other, human being is the root of all wisdom. But I felt no need for these sophistries as I sat before my cousin, saw him, freed from his inconclusive struggle with Pindar, in his dark grey suit, his white tie, his scholar's gown; heard his grave tones and, all the time, savoured the gillyflowers in full bloom under my windows.


He did not fail in love, but he lost his joy of it, for I was no longer part of his solitude. As my intimacy with his family grew, I became part of the world which he sought to escape; I became one of the bonds which held him. That was the part for which his mother, in all our little talks, was seeking to fit me. Everything was left unsaid. It was only dimly and at rare moments that I suspected what was afoot.


Julia used to say, 'Poor Sebastian. It's something chemical in him.'
That was the cant phrase of the time, derived from heaven knows what misconception of popular science. 'There's something chemical between them' was used to explain the over-mastering hate or love of any two people. It was the old concept in a new form. I do not believe there was anything chemical in my friend.


This was the creature, neither child nor woman, that drove me through the dusk that summer evening, untroubled by love, taken aback by the power of her own beauty, hesitating on the cool edge of life one who had suddenly found herself armed, unawares; the heroine of a fairy story turning over in her hands the magic ring; she had only to stroke it with her fingertips and whisper the charmed word, for the earth to open at her feet and belch forth her titanic servant, the fawning monster who would bring her whatever she asked, but bring it, perhaps, in unwelcome shape.


From being agreeable, he became indispensable to her; from having been proud of him in public she became a little ashamed, but by that time, between Christmas and Easter, he had become indispensable. And then, without in the least expecting it, she suddenly found herself in love.


For six weeks they remained at arm's length, kissing when they met and parted, sitting meantime at a distance, talking of what they would do and where they would live and of Rex's chances of an under-secretaryship. Julia was content, deep in love, living in the future. Then, just before the end of the session, she learned that Rex had been staying the weekend with a stockbroker at Sunningdale, when he said he was at his constituency, and that Mrs Champion had been there, too.


'I don't believe you've changed at all, Charles.'
'No, I'm afraid not.'
'D'you want to change?'
'It's the only evidence of life.'
'But you might change so that you didn't love me any more.'
'There is that risk.'
'Charles, you haven't stopped loving me.'
'You said yourself I hadn't changed.'
'Well, I'm beginning to think you have. I haven't.'
'No,' I said, 'no; I can see that.'
'Were you at all frightened at meeting me today?'
'Not the least.'
'You didn't wonder if I should have fallen in love with someone else in the meantime?'
'No. Have you?'
'You know I haven't. Have you?'
'No. I'm not in love.'
My wife seemed content with this answer. She had married me six years ago at the
time of my first exhibition, and had done much since then to push our interests.


She looked up slowly from her chocolate and, her splendid, serious eyes in mine, said: 'Don't you know? I'll tell you about it sometimes I've been a mug. I thought I was in love with someone, but it didn't turn out that way.' And my mind went back ten years to the evening at Brideshead, when that lovely, spidery child of nineteen, as though brought in for an hour from the nursery and nettled by lack of attention from the grownups, had said: 'I'm causing anxiety, too, you know,' and I had thought at the time, though scarcely, it now seemed to me, in long trousers myself, 'How important these girls make themselves with their love affairs.' Now it was different; there was nothing but humility and friendly candour in the way she spoke. I wished I could respond to her confidence, give some token of acceptance, but there was nothing in my last, flat, eventful years that I could share with her.


She was not yet thirty, but was approaching the zenith of her loveliness, all her rich promise abundantly fulfilled. She had lost that fashionable, spidery look; the head that I used to think quattrocento, which had sat a little oddly on her, was now part of herself and not at all Florentine; not connected in any way with painting or the arts or with anything except herself, so that it would be idle to itemize and dissect her beauty, which was her own essence, and could only be known in her and by her authority and in the love I was soon to have for her.


I knew what she meant, and in that moment felt as though I had shaken off some of the dust and grit of ten dry years; then and always, however she spoke to me, in half sentences, single words, stock phrases of contemporary jargon, in scarcely perceptible movements of eyes or lips or hands, however inexpressible her thought, however quick and far it had glanced from the matter in hand, however deep it had plunged, as it often did, straight from the surface to the depths, I knew; even that day when I still stood on the extreme verge of love, I knew what she meant.


But later that night when she went to bed and I followed her to her door, she stopped me.
'No, Charles, not yet. Perhaps never. I don't know. I don't know if I want love.' Then something, some surviving ghost from those dead ten years - for one cannot die, even for a little, without some loss made me say, 'Love? I'm not asking for love.' 'Oh yes, Charles, you are,' she said, and putting up her hand gently stroked my cheek; then shut her door.


I took you out to dinner to warn you of charm. I warned you expressly and in great detail of the Flyte family. Charm is the great English blight. It does not exist outside these damp islands. It spots and kills anything it touches. It kills love; it kills art; I greatly fear, my dear Charles, it has killed you.'


Julia wore the embroidered Chinese robe which she often used when we were dining alone at Brideshead; it was a robe whose weight and stiff folds stressed her repose; her neck rose exquisitely from the plain gold circle at her throat; her hands lay still among the dragons in her lap. It was thus that I had rejoiced to see her nights without number, and that night, watching her as she sat between the firelight and the shaded lamp, unable to look away for love of her beauty, I suddenly thought, 'When else have I seen her like this? Why am I reminded of another moment of vision?' And it came back to me that this was how she had sat in the liner, before the storm; this was how she had looked, and I realized that she had regained what I thought she had lost for ever, the magical sadness which had drawn me to her, the thwarted look that had seemed to say, 'Surely I was made for some other purpose than this?'

Evelyn Waugh: Brideshead Revisited, The Sacred & Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder (1945)

Brideshead Revisited (25th Anniversary Collector's Edition)
Mad World: Evelyn Waugh and the Secrets of Brideshead

Friday, February 12, 2010

Love Quotes for Valentine's Day

It is time to sprinkle some romantic love dust over the person you love. Good love quotes are the best bits of the best romantic minds, suitable for you to spread around this Valentine’s Day. I was surprised how difficult it was to find suitable Valentines quotes. So many love quotes are too general, philosophical, and even sarcastic to go well with Valentine's Day. You don't want your loved one to wonder about the meaning of some word in quote. Hope these romantic love quotes will help you to convey your caring feeling to your love. Happy Valentine’s Day!

There is only one kind of love, but there are a thousand different versions.
-La Rochefoucald

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. -Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction. -Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Since love grows within you, so beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul. -St. Augustine

My love most true has made me yours. -Juan del Encina

At one glance I love you with a thousand hearts. -Mihri Hatun

Let your love be like the misty rain, coming softly, but flooding the river.
-Madagascan Proverb

I humbly do beseech you of your pardon for too much loving you.
-Shakespeare (Iago in Othello)

Your beauty’s form was shaped by God Himself, so are my feelings merely human love? -Amir Khusrau

Any time that is not spent on love is wasted. -Torquato Tasso

Youth’s for an hour, beauty’s a flower, but love is the jewel that wins the world. -Moira O’Neill

What’s the earth with all its art, verse, music, worth – compared with love found, gained, and kept? -Robert Browning

Stay, little Valentine, stay,
Each day is Valentine's day.
-Lorenz Hart: My Funny Valentine (1937 song)

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Rumi Quotes

Only he whose garment is rent by the violence of love is wholly pure from covetousness and sin.

Hail to thee, O Love, sweet madness! Thou who heal all our infirmities.

Love exalts our earthly bodies to heaven, and makes the very hills to dance with joy!

A true lover is proved such by his pain of heart; no sickness is there like sickness of heart.

The lover’s ailment is different from all ailments; Love is the astrolabe of God’s mysteries.

However much we describe and explain love, when we fall in love we are ashamed of our words.

Explanation by the tongue makes most things clear, but love unexplained is clearer.

When pen hasted to write, on reaching the subject of love it split in twain.

When the discourse touched on the matter of love, pen was broken and paper torn.

Only love itself can explain love and lovers.

The fertile garden of love, as it is boundless, contains other fruits besides joy and sorrow.

Love and tenderness are qualities of humanity, passion and lust are qualities of animality.

Woman is a ray of God, not a mere mistress, the Creator’s self, as it were, not a mere creature.

The lover’s love is visible but love depends not on outward form or face.

Through love bitter things seem sweet, through love bits of copper are made gold.

Through love thorns become roses, through love vinegar becomes sweet wine.

Through love burning fire is pleasing light.

Through love Ghouls turn into angels.

Kindle in thy heart the flame of love, and burn up utterly thoughts and fine expressions.

Love is fearless in the midst of the sea of fear.

One who is really loved is the single object of her lover, the Alpha and Omega of his desires.

With thee, my love, hell itself were heaven,

With thee a prison would be a rose garden.

With thee hell would be a mansion of delight,

Without thee lilies and roses would be as flames of fire.

The torch of love is all sweetness.

The love of the soul is for life and the living one, because its origin is the Soul not bound to place.

Love is as the ark appointed for the righteous, which annuls the danger and provides a way of escape.

Love is a perfect muzzle of evil suggestions; without love who ever succeeded in stopping them?

Be a lover, and seek that fair beauty, hunt for that waterfowl in every stream.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Lost Love Quotes - Poetry on Lost Love

Quotes about Lost Love

Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
-Dylan Thomas

All lost things are in the angels’ keeping, Love;
No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love.
-Helen Hunt Jackson

’T is better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all.
-Alfred Tennyson

Bend low, O dusky Night,
And give my spirit rest,
Hold me to your deep breast,
And put old cares to flight.
Give back the lost delight
That once my soul possest,
When Love was loveliest.
-Louise Chandler Moulton

The pure, the beautiful, the bright,
That stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulse to a wordless prayer,
The dreams of love and truth,
The longings after something lost,
The spirit’s yearning cry,
The strivings after better hopes,—
These things can never die.
-Sarah Doudney

And this I know: whether the one True Light
Kindle to Love, or wrath-consume me quite,
One flash of it within the tavern caught
Better than in the temple lost outright.
-Omar Khayyam: Rubáiyát

I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
-Sir Walter Scott

Thou art to all lost love the best,
The only true plant found,
Wherewith young men and maids distrest,
And left of love, are crown'd.
When once the lover's rose is dead,
Or laid aside forlorn:
Then willow-garlands 'bout the head
Bedew'd with tears are worn.
When with neglect, the lovers' bane,
Poor maids rewarded be
For their love lost, their only gain
Is but a wreath from thee.
And underneath thy cooling shade,
When weary of the light,
The love-spent youth and love-sick maid
Come to weep out the night.
-Robert Herrick: To the Willow-tree

The Moonbeams over Arno’s vale in silver flood were pouring,
When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring.
So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie;
I longed to hear a simpler strain, —the wood-notes of the veery.
-Henry Van Dyke

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
I cried in my dream ‘O women bid the young men lay
‘Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your hair,
‘Or remembering hers they will find no other face fair
‘Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away.’

-W.B. Yeats: Aedh tells of a Valley full of Lovers

Yea, in the old days thou wast she
Who lured Mark Antony from home
To death and Egypt, seeing he
Lost love when he lost Rome.
-George Sylvester Viereck

Too soon did I love it, and lost love’s rose; and I car’d not for glory’s:
Only the blossoms of sleep and of pleasure were mix’d in my hair.
Was it myrtle or poppy thy garland was woven with, O my Dolores?
Was it pallor or slumber, or blush as of blood, that I found in thee fair?
For desire is a respite from love, and the flesh, not the heart, is her fuel;
-Algernon Charles Swinburne

From Spanish chestnut trees’ dense shade,
By old and heavy convent walls, a wailing song,
Song of lost love—the torch of youth and life quench’d in despair,
Song of the dying swan—Fernando’s heart is breaking.
-Walt Whitman

By imperceptible degrees, it became a hopeless consciousness of all that I had lost—love, friendship, interest; of all that had been shattered—my first trust, my first affection, the whole airy castle of my life; of all that remained—a ruined blank and waste, lying wide around me, unbroken, to the dark horizon.
-Charles Dickens: David Copperfield

The Magic of Making Up