Lcmurphy86

“For good or evil, these waifs on the great stream of London life had drifted together; how long the current should continue thus to bear them side by side- how long, indeed, they should float on the surface of the stream at all, was a question with which for the time being, they did not very much trouble themselves.”
― Amy Levy, The Romance of a Shop

“Every city is a ghost.
New buildings rise upon the bones of the old so that each shiny steel bean, each tower of brick carries within it the memories of what has gone before, an architectural haunting. Sometimes you can catch a glimpse of these former incarnations in the awkward angle of a street or filigreed gate, an old oak door peeking out from a new facade, the plaque commemorating the spot that was once a battleground, which became a saloon and is now a park.”
― Libba Bray, Lair of Dreams

“Sometimes, when it's going badly, she wonders if what she believes to be a love of the written word is really just a fetish for stationery. The true writer, the born writer, will scribble words on scraps of litter, the back of a bus tickets, on the wall of a cell .Emma is lost on anything less than 120gsm.”
― David Nicholls, One Day

“Humid the air! Leafless, yet soft as spring. The tender purple spray on copse and briers! And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, she needs not June for beauty's heightening. Lovely all the time she lies...”
― Matthew Arnold, Thyrsis: A Monody And The Scholar Gypsy