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Quote by Isadora Duncan

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My life

This simple yet evocative title follows a common tradition in autobiographical literature, where authors use direct self-referential phrasing to introduce their personal stories. The phrase 'My life' serves as a universal framework for life writing, allowing individuals to document their experiences, reflections, and personal journeys. Countless works across different languages and cultures have adopted this straightforward title format to share personal narratives spanning various genres including memoirs, autobiographies, diaries, and personal essays. more

Author

Isadora Duncan
Isadora Duncan

Isadora Duncan, born on May 27, 1877, and died on September 14, 1927, was a pioneer of modern dance. She is known for her free and expressive dance style, which broke away from the constraints of classical ballet and laid the foundation for modern dance. more

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“Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year you must not die; You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year you shall not die.”

“The vineyard country, russet, reddish, carmine-brown in this season. A blue outline of hills above a fertile valley. It's warm as long as the sun does not set, in the shade cold returns. A strong sauna and then swimming in a pool surrounded by trees. Dark redwoods, transparent pale-leved birches. In their delicate network, a sliver of the moon. I describe this for I have learned to doubt philosophy And the visible world is all that remains.”

“Christmas is a time of little time. How we get there is a mystery. Racing madly mall-to-mall, we climb Into fields of sunlit harmony. Shopping, cooking, clearing walks and yards, Trimming house and tree while working, too; Making phone calls, wrapping, writing cards, As all worn out we do what we must do So that this day of joy might joy renew.”

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly, I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Leonore - For the rare and radiant maiden who the angels name Lenore - Nameless here for evermore.”