Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere) – ee cummings from Spring is like a perhaps hand Hello dear readers!!! You may have noticed that my posts have been MIA for some time now. My sincerest apologies in this regard. I’ve thought of posting often …
Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth – William Wordsworth, from Tintern Abbey Some of my oldest, fondest, and most cherished memories are rooted in nature. For as long as I can remember …
Virtue is its own reward, and brings with it the truest and highest pleasure; but if we cultivate it only for pleasure’s sake, we are selfish, not religious, and will never gain the pleasure, because we can never have the virtue – John Henry Newman Writing is not for the …
I always try to create conflict and drama in my books; it’s the engine of the novel.– Monica Ali I remember years ago when I was in high school or maybe even middle school one of my friend’s mom was an artist, a painter. We were over at their house …
I have a confession to make. I haven’t written in over a week. It may not sound like a big deal to you, but for me it has been quite troubling. And of course I have my reasons, that is to say my excuses. I was traveling for a while …
The greatest thing by far, is to have a command of metaphor. This alone cannot be imparted by another; it is the mark of genius, for to make good metaphors implies an eye for resemblance. – Aristotle, from Poetics When I was in college a poet came to visit …
Welcome to the next post in The Adventures of Roland! You can find all the previous posts in Roland’s escapades here. Each installment typically comes out around once per month. I hope you enjoy! Also as an FYI this the final post of the original short story which I wrote …
His art with nature’s workmanship at strife, As if the dead the living should exceed – William Shakespeare, from Venus and Adonis When I was studying Shakespeare in college we were reading Venus and Adonis aloud as a class together when my professor stopped the person reading his lines (the full …
Yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf, And the aged elm, though touched with fire; And the dry pump flung up an awkward arm; And the fence post carried a strand of wire. For them there was really nothing sad. – Robert Frost, from “The Need of Being Versed …
Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts? – Shakespeare, King Lear What is literature? How is it different than history? Or science? Or film even? What is it that not just books can do, but that great stories alone can do? When we contemplate on literature, whatever …
