He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music.
James JoyceAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: irish
- Born: February 2, 1882
- Died: January 13, 1941
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I still don't know a place with lovelier Aprils. The mornings and nights are fresh and cool, and the sun pours down like spilled honey, warm without the thick wet weight of the coming summer. The damp earth is as red as flesh, or blood, and so fecund that you can almost hear the thrumming, rustling push of growth up through it. The new foliage is a thousand different shades of pink, red, gold, and green. I could not seem to stay indoors at night in that first spring; I was enraptured with the...
Anne Rivers Siddons