Tag: beryl_markham

The world is a big place.
She had learned to let the world come round to her.
Time moved on, overcoming many things it met on the way.
I recognize a familiar scene.
It has all happened a hundred times in my mind.
I only feel that all this has happened before — and it has.
Your mind and your heart reject it.
Now, where are we bound?
So it didn’t matter, I thought. It was silly to think about.
I had watched her birth and watched her growth.
I’d be interested in that, but nothing else.
I had learned a craft and had worked hard learning it.
There was nothing extraordinary in this.
But of course I could not close my eyes, nor my mind, nor my memory.
All the characters in my dreams have quiet voices.
Mine are not enigmatic dreams.
Well, it’s very sad, but you can’t do anything about it.
Imagine not knowing where you came from!
It was a good time to leave.
I spend so much time alone that silence has become a habit.
Every tomorrow ought not to resemble every yesterday.
It is no good anticipating regrets.
A life has to move or it stagnates.
He talks. He is never significantly silent.
But the tactics vary.
There is no mystery about the things you see yourself.
Rest for a moment; take your time.
Things had passed, new things had come.
No one ever learned why.
It may be that there is nothing.
It will tell you where you ought to be going and the rest is up to you.
I think I am going to leave all this and learn to fly.
So don’t ask questions.
You can imagine the rest.
It was a preoccupied silence that no one attempted to disturb.
He walks along, scuffing the ground.
That is ordinary; it can be seen anywhere.
They stare, but I think they see nothing.
And then it’s over. Then it’s silent, as if somebody closed the door on Babel.
There’s not a prettier one in the field — nor one more thoughtful.
She is without ego, but she can afford vanity.
We nod to each other all around.
We do not talk very much.
It is only that I have the power to make truths of my beliefs.
The time of man is too brief a period to deserve more than incidental recording.
It was a world of absolutes. It held no intermediate shades, neither of sound nor of colour.
Let there be music.
Whoever heard of Destiny with pliers in his hand?
Jumbled thoughts — restless thoughts — absurd thoughts!
The Present is a sluggish traveller loafing in the path Tomorrow wants to take.