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Phillip Allen
05-27-2005, 09:27 AM
"She was a little like the eccentric genius who, after being asked by his host why he had rubbed the broccoli in his hair at dinner, apologized with a bow from the waist and said he had thought it was spinach."

anyone know?

Phillip Allen
05-27-2005, 09:29 AM
and another...

"There are all kinds of silences and each of them means a different thing. There is the silence that comes with morning in a forest, and this is different from the silence of a sleeping city. There is silence after a rainstorm, and before a rainstorm, and these are not the same. There is the silence of emptiness, the silence of fear, the silence of doubt. There is a certain silence that can emanate from a lifeless object as from a chair lately used, or from a piano with old dust upon its keys, or from anything that has answered to the need of a man, for pleasure or for work. This kind of silence can speak. Its voice may be melancholy, but it is not always so; for the chair may have been left by a laughing child or the last notes of the piano may have been raucous and gay. Whatever the mood or the circumstances, the essence of its quality may linger in the silence that follows. It is a soundless echo."

Phillip Allen
05-27-2005, 09:32 AM
and one more...

"You can live a lifetime and, at the end of it, know more about other people than you know about yourself. You learn to watch other people, but you never watch yourself because you strive against loneliness. If you read a book, or shuffle a deck of cards, or care for a dog, you are avoiding yourself. The abhorrence of loneliness is as natural as wanting to live at all. If it were otherwise, men would never have bothered to make an alphabet, nor to have fashioned words out of what were only animal sounds, nor to have crossed continents—each man to see what the other looked like."

P.I. Stazzer-Newt
05-27-2005, 09:37 AM
Beryl Markham, West with the Night

Phillip Allen
05-27-2005, 09:43 AM
Nailed it...thanks

Phillip Allen
05-27-2005, 09:46 AM
...Denys had lived with Karen Blixen until a few weeks before this final flight, and his remains were turned over to her. She buried him in the Ngong Hills, where he had said he'd like to be buried. Later it was rumored that lions frequently sunned themselves on the grave.

These things give me an ache to have lost so much...even before I was born. I love the Africa I will never see...

[ 05-27-2005, 10:47 AM: Message edited by: Phillip Allen ]

Phillip Allen
05-27-2005, 10:00 AM
An understatement by E. Hemmingway...

Did you read Beryl Markham's book, "West with the Night"? I knew her fairly well in Africa and never would have suspected that she could and would put pen to paper except to write in her flyer's log book. As it is, she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer. I felt that I was simply a carpenter with words, picking up whatever was furnished on the job and some times making an okay pig pen. But this girl who is, to my knowledge, very unpleasant,... can write rings around all of us who consider ourselves as writers. The only parts of it that I know about personally, on account of having been there at the time and heard the other people's stories, are absolutely true. So, you have to take as truth the early stuff about when she was a child which is absolutely superb. She omits some very fantastic stuff which I know about which would destroy much of the character of the heroine; but what is that anyhow in writing? I wish you would get it and read it because it is really a bloody, wonderful book.

P.I. Stazzer-Newt
05-27-2005, 10:12 AM
The lady wife, like most members or her sex (which is female), has an inordinate number of birthdays.

As she grows older these undoubtedly increase in frequency.
Indeed I am of the opinion that she is now celebrating as many as one per annum.

Phillip Allen
05-27-2005, 10:14 AM
:D