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Mervyn Peake Quotes

Mervyn Peake quotes about dark

British Writer July 9, 1911 – November 17, 1968

Mervyn Peake quotes in russian
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Quotes

Here, are the stiffening hills, here, the rich cargo. Congealed in the dark arteries, Old veins. That hold Glamorgan's blood. The midnight miner in the secret seams, Limb, life, and bread.- Rhondda Valley Mervyn Peake
But there were also times when she cried out in the darkness biting her lips - cried out against the substance of her age: for it was now that she should be young; now above all other times, with the wisdom in her, the wisdom that was frittered away in her 'teens', set aside in her twenties, now, lying there, palpable and with forty summers gone. She clenched her hands together. What good was wisdom; what good was anything when the fawn is fled from the grove? Mervyn Peake
I, while the gods laugh, the world's vortex am; Maelstrm of passions in that hidden sea. Whose waves of all-time lap the coasts of me; And in small compass the dark waters cram.- I, While the Gods Laugh, the World's Vortex Am Mervyn Peake
The sun sank with a sob and darkness waded in from all horizons so that the sky contracted and there was no more light left in the world, when, at this very moment of annihilation, the moon, as though she had been waiting for her cue, sailed up the night. Mervyn Peake
Gormenghast. Withdrawn and ruinous it broods in umbra: the immemorial masonry: the towers, the tracts. Is all corroding? No. Through an avenue of spires a zephyr floats; a bird whistles; a freshet beats away from a choked river. Deep in a fist of stone a doll's hand wriggles, warm rebellious on the frozen palm. A shadow shifts its length. A spider stirs... And darkness winds between the characters.- Gormenghast Mervyn Peake
Mervyn Peake quote: "But Fuchsia might as well have been carved from dark marble...."
But Fuchsia might as well have been carved from dark marble. Only her tears moved. Mervyn Peake
The crumbling castle, looming among the mists, exhaled the season, and every cold stone breathed it out. The tortured trees by the dark lake burned and dripped, their leaves snatched by the wind were whirled in wild circles through the towers. The clouds mouldered as they lay coiled, or shifted themselves uneasily upon the stone skyfield, sending up wreathes that drifted through the turrets and swarmed up hidden walls. Mervyn Peake

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