359
(Source: downton-tabby)
Quixote & Co.
I wander off on minor quests, sometimes I write about them. Or I photograph them. I encourage tilting at windmills. Join me, won't you?
Yet genius of a sort must have existed among women as it must have existed among the working classes. Now and again an Emily Bronte or a Robert Burns blazes out and proves its presence. But certainly it never got itself on paper. When, however, one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs, or even of a very remarkable man who had a mother, then I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet, of some mute and inglorious Jane Austen, some Emily Bronte who dashed her brains out on the moor or mopped and mowed about the highways crazed with the torture that her gift had put her to.
[…]any woman born with a great gift in the sixteenth century would certainly have gone crazed, shot herself, or ended her days in some lonely cottage outside the village, half witch, half wizard, feared and mocked at. For it needs little skill in psychology to be sure that a highly gifted girl who had tried to use her gift for poetry would have been so thwarted and hindered by other people, so tortured and pulled asunder by her own contrary instincts, that she must have lost her health and sanity to a certainty.
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own (via awritersruminations)
(via jenniferehle)
Today was all about the Westminster dog show, though of course I personally don’t judge dogs based on their appearance. Well, maybe a little. Sometimes.
I watched some of the competition on TV, and when the program went off air, caught the live Mastiff action on the computer while my human (who was tired from staying up “working” — whatever that is — really, really late last night) tried to take a nap.
“The difference in horses and boys,” she said, “is that horses don’t talk. It deems them superior.”
-Killing Pete
(via horseandwriter)
Typical page in old Danbury records, filled with hatters and furriers. Sadly, nearly all traces of the industry (buildings, factories) have ceased to exist.
(Source: downton-tabby)
