Nearer to something for which there was no name, escaping from the world and losing herself, mingling with things that have no reckoning of time, where there is no today and no tomorrow. The loving Spirit, book 1,.5,.31, virago (2003). Attending services at Llanteglos has always meant a great deal to me; but there have been many times when walking along the coastal paths and have stopped to gaze out to sea that I feel quite in tune with that passage. Also when standing on my little deck at night, with a full moon shining down on Polruan and the harbor. Janet - joseph - christopher - jennifer, all bound together in some strange and thwarted love for one another, handing down this strain of restlessness and suffering, this intolerable longing for beauty and freedom; all searching for the nameless things, the untrodden ways, but finding. The loving Spirit, book 4,.9,.356, virago (2003). Stephen Maddox - the loving Spirit he threw back his head and watched her as she stood, white against the sky with a smile on her lips.
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She leans beyond them all, a little white figure with her hands at her breast, her chin in the air, her eyes gazing towards the sea. High above the clustered houses and the grey harbour waters of Plyn, the loving spirit smiles and is free. The loving Spirit, book 4,.12,.403/4, virago (2003). These favourite lines have really struck a chord essay within me and have stayed with me throughout the years. They have moved me most for some unknown reason. Years ago, when doing my Strictly Britain tours, when we paused by ferryside to wait for the ferry, i would read the last few lines of the book to my group, as that always seemed to be the appropriate introduction to daphne, and Fowey that. Somehow she had no wish to go tonight. She did not care to listen to the parson's words, nor to join in singing the hymns with the others, nor even kneel by the altar rail to receive the Blessed Sacrament. She had a mind to slip away in the darkness, and run for the cliff path that overlooked the sea. There'd be a moon over the water, like a path of silver leading away from the black sea to the sky, and she'd be nearer to peace there than on her knees in Lanoc Church.
Peter Travell -The loving Spirit, she longed for Joseph more than ever now, to be with him continually, to forsake him never. She was nearly fifty and she had seen nothing of the world. Her old wild sprit, undaunted and fearless, claimed its rightful place beside joseph. They were born to share danger and joy together, the sea that held so strong a hold on him, had woven its spell about her too, and though she was a woman and middle-aged she dreamt not of a warm fireside and an easy chair. There, where biography the sky and sea mingle, and where no land beckons, she felt her youth and her strength would return to her, but to live without Joseph in Plyn meant a desolation of soul and body, and at times when her weak heart betrayed. The loving Spirit, book 1,.13,.96/7, virago (2003). I picked this passage because i think it captures the soaring strength and deep fragility of the human mind. Pat Polidor - the loving Spirit Placed against the beam is the figurehead of a ship.
They stretched as far as his eye could reach, in close formation, line upon line. Had the professional sea been still they would have covered the bay like a white cloud, head to head, body packed to body. The birds and Other Stories,.1,.10/11, virago (2004). The menace in this passage is palpable and never ceases to scare me plan to death: 'Then he saw them. Out there, riding the seas.' The shock is punched home by the staccato phrasing. The birds and Other Stories was originally published with the title. Josephine is a blue badge guide for the du maurier festival walks.
He decided to take the birds to the shore and bury them. He crunched his way over the shingle to the softer sand and then, his back to the wind, ground a pit in the sand with his heel. He meant to drop the birds into it, but as he opened up the sack the force of the wind carried them, lifted them, as though in flight again, and they were blown away from him along the beach, tossed like feathers, spread and scattered. He looked out to sea and watched the crested breakers, combing green. Then he saw them. Out there, riding the seas. What he had thought at first to be the white caps of the waves were gulls. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands They rose and fell in the trough of the seas, heads to the wind, like a mighty fleet at anchor, waiting on the tide. To eastward and to the west, the gulls were there.
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So swift to go, impossible to hold. The Flight of the falcon,.5,.56/57, virago (2005). Kim Travell co-presented 'The mystery of Daphne's Music' at the 2008 Festival. David Rogers - the house on the Strand. There are few strains more intolerable in life report than waiting for the arrival of unwelcome guests. The house on The Strand,.13,.157, virago (2003). David Rogers chose just one favourite sentence.
However, as an experienced church organist he felt compelled to write to daphne in 1970 about some music and ecclesiastical references in chapter 13, (p.161). Their cordial exchange of views is in the du write maurier archives at Exeter University. Sheila hodges, daphne's editor acknowledged that the phrase: 'he's fond of music, particularly church music, Gregorian chants and plainsong' was a bit of tautology adding: 'sometimes she became fascinated by the sound of words and the rhythm of phrases, occasionally to the detriment of their. But this always seemed one of the charms of her writing, because it contributed to the music of her prose.'. Josephine king -The birds, the wind seemed to cut him to the bone as he stood there, uncertainly, holding the sack. He could see the white-capped seas breaking down under in the bay.
Flavia leng is Daphne du maurier's daughter. Kim Travell - the Flight of the falcon. I passed the ducal palace. I wanted to look at my old home I could see the windows of the first floor, opened. This had been my parents' bedroom. Someone was playing the piano.
A torrent of sound rippled from the keys. It was something i knew. My lips framed a silent echo to the sound as it rose and fell, half gay, half sad, timeless melody. The well-worn 'Arabesque but with a master touch. The music ebbed and flowed, changed mood and entered the more solemn phrases, and then again that first light-hearted ripple, higher, even higher, confident and gay, but at last with a descending scale, dissolving, vanishing. It seemed to say: All over, nevermore. The innocence of youth, the joy of childhood, leaping from bed to welcome a new day. All gone, the fervour spent. The repetition of the phrase was only a reminder, an echo of what had been.
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I'll never be young Again,.6,.64, virago (2005). Kits Browning's choice from Vanishing Cornwall evokes database Daphne's feelings towards Norwegian fjords expressed by dick in I'll never be young Again, a description I find haunting. Flavia leng - frenchman's Creek, when the revelation east wind blows up Helford river the shining waters become troubled and disturbed and the little waves beat angrily upon the sandy shores. The short seas break above the bar at ebb-tide, and the waders fly inland to the mud-flats, their wings skimming the surface, and calling to one another as they. Only the gulls remain, wheeling and crying above the foam, diving now and again in search of food, their grey feathers glistening with the salt spray. Frenchman's Creek,.1,.1 Virago (2003). The solitary yachtsman who leaves his yacht in the open roadstead of Helford, and goes exploring up river in his dinghy on a night in midsummer, when the night-jars call, hesitates when he comes upon the mouth of the creek, for there is something. Being a stranger, the yachtsman looks back over his shoulder to the safe yacht in the roadstead, and to the broad waters of the river, and he pauses, resting on his paddles, aware suddenly of the deep silence of the creek, of its narrow twisting. Frenchman's Creek,.1,.4, virago (2003).
Christian 'kits' Browning is Daphne du maurier's son. Collin Langley - i'll never be young Again. I could see the mountains reflected in the water. There would be no shadows even when the sun was gone, and no sound. The light on the water would be the same, night and day. I could imagine there would be no birds here to sing. They would be afraid of the sound of their own voices. It was beautiful, but it was too big for me and too remote.
several books including a biography of Lorenzo da ponte, the librettist of mozart's three most famous operas and contributor to music journals,. The music review and Opera quarterly. Kits Browning - vanishing Cornwall, the place has the impersonality of somewhere superbly dissociated from humankind, even from life itself. There are no gulls perching upon the ledges or the clefts, no sheep grazing on the headlands beyond. The force of matter is pre-eminent, hard rock challenging the elemental thrust of water. Perhaps this was what drew the hermit to wander here from his cell higher up the valley, endeavouring to reconcile the indifference of nature with an all-seeing and benevolent God. Vanishing Cornwall,.10,.121, virago (2007). My mother's description of the rocky valley a few miles inland from Tintagel, north Cornwall is one of my favourite"s.
The king's General,.28,.287, virago (2004). Here is the central first character of The king's General, reflecting on the countryside she knows so well, daphne's own countryside. I think daphne sometimes became fascinated by the sound of words and rhythm of phrases. This always seems to me one of the charms of her writing, because it contributed to the music of her prose. I have no documentation whatsoever to support this remark, but I feel in my bones that it is true. If you have a copy of an article which I wrote some years ago for. Women's History review, volume 11, number 2, 2002, reproduced.
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In 2009 Collin Langley, a devoted du maurier aficionado, came up with the idea of inviting people to essays submit their favourite lines from the writings of Daphne du maurier and asked them to say why those lines were special or significant to them. During the course of that year nearly 100"s were submitted to the du maurier website. Sometimes the same" was chosen by more than one person; the reasons people gave for choosing their favourite lines was always interesting. People submitting entries included du maurier fans and festival goers, members of the du maurier Browning family and celebrities who were in some way associated with Daphne du maurier. Well known du maurier followers included Alan Titchmarsh, who had championed Rebecca during The big read in 2003, and Jan ravens, who had chosen Daphne du maurier as her specialist subject in Celebrity mastermind in January 2008. By the time submissions had stopped coming in Collin had created a splendid and unique record, which we are delighted to be able to bring across to the newly designed Daphne du maurier website. The favourite lines are easy to search; just press Ctrl-f on your keyboard and type in the title of a book, or a few words from a", and take it from there. Sheila hodges - the king's General. I have seen the white sea-mists of early summer turn the hill to fantasy, so that it becomes, in a single second, a ghost land of enchantment, with no sound coming but the wash of breakers on the hidden beach, where, at high noon, the.