Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Neil Munro

Quote by Neil Munro

“Oh Tillietudlem, no matter whaur I be, Tillietudlem Castle 'll aye be dear tae me. T'was there I met my Mary when first I went to see Tillietudlem Castle and its bonny scenery.”

Quote by Neil Munro

Book:Erchie, My Droll Friend
Create image

Work

Erchie, My Droll Friend

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Neil Munro

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Neil Munro. more

You May Also Like

“David sees it as essential that a guide be able to find the balance between telling the truth and not pushing people so much that they shut down. He told me that when you challenge people, specifically white people's conception of Jefferson, you're in fact challenging their conception of themselves. ...David knows that some visitors to Monticello arrive with an understanding of history that is not only misguided but also harmful. He has a difficult time disentangling this from the current political moment. "That's not the story of who we are," he said, referencing the language of Make America Great Again, "but some people really, for whatever reason, they want to believe that and they want to go back there, right? They want to go back to something that never existed.”

TruthHistorySlaveryNostalgiaAmerican HistoryWhitesThomas JeffersonTour GuidesMonticelloTours
Book:How the Word Is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America
Create image

“Our Skirt (by Kathy Boudin) You were forty-five and I was fourteen when you gave me the skirt. ¨It's from Paris!¨ you said as if that would impress me who at best had mixed feelings about skirts. But I was drawn by that summer cotton with splashes of black and white--like paint dabbed by an eager artist. I borrowed your skirt and it moved like waves as I danced at a ninth grade party. Wearing it date after date including my first dinner with a college man. I never was much for buying new clothes, once I liked something it stayed with me for years. I remember the day I tried ironing your skirt, so wide it seemed to go on and on like a western sky. Then I smelled the burning and, crushed, saw that I had left a red-brown scorch on that painting. But you, Mother, you understood because ironing was not your thing either. And over the years your skirt became my skirt until I left it and other parts of home with you. Now you are eighty and I almost fifty. We sit across from each other in the prison visiting room. Your soft gray-thin hair twirls into style. I follow the lines on your face, paths lit by your eyes until my gaze comes to rest on the black and white on the years that our skirt has endured.”

NostalgiaMothers And DaughtersShared Memoriesories
Book:Aliens at the Border: the Writing Workshop, Bedford Hills Correctional Facility
Create image