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Quote by Kevin Crossley-Holland

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The Anglo-Saxon Elegies

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Kevin Crossley-Holland

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“Why do I speak of joy or write of love, When my heart is the very den of horror, And in my soul the pains of hell I prove, With all his tormented and infernal terror? What should I say? what yet remains to do? My brain is dry with weeping all too long; My signs be spent in utt'ring of my woe, And I want words wherewith to tell my wrong. Love's Lunacy: Sonnet XLI”

LoveSadnessDespairUnrequited
Book:Idea: Elizabethan Sonnet Cycle
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“He came into my life in February 1932 and never left it again. More than a quarter of a century has passed since then, more than nine thousand days, desultory and tedious, hollow with the sense of effort or work without hope- days and years, many of them as dead as dry leaves on a dead tree. I can remember the day and the hour when I first set eyes on this boy who was to be the source of my greatest happiness and of my greatest despair.”

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Book:Reunion
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“I was often tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only unquiet thing that wandered so restless in a scene so beautiful and heavenly, if I except some bat, or frogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore - often, I say, was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my calamities forever.”

LifeDeathDespairMurderGuiltRomanticismFrankenstein
Book:Frankenstein: The 1818 Text
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