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The Embankment {The Fantasia of a Fallen Gentleman on a Cold, Bitter Night) by T E Hulme
Once, in finesse of fiddles found I ecstasy, In a flash of gold heels on the hard pavement. Now see I That warmth’s the very stuff of poesy. Oh, God, make small The old star-eaten blanket of the sky, That I may fold it round me and in comfort lie.
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GalleyCat raises the issue of an author’s age.Is a teenage writer’s voice more genuine than an older writer writing for the same YA market? Is it better to write in the midst of teen angst, or…
How Old is Too Young?
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I just posted about The Price of Freedom on Dear Author’s Open Thread for Authors for June. It is an indescribable pleasure to present your own novella to the world. Happy, happy, happy, … I…
Open Thread for Authors at Dear Author
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The red is reeds or grass growing on the lakebed where there ought to be water. We need rain.
When the Lake Runs Dry
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Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (via awritersruminations)
I am sure that if we could follow the course of one single good novel, if we could see the weary who have been cheered by it, the sick who have been comforted, the spent business men whose thoughts have been taken into other channels, we should realise that there is no field of human…