Питер Акройд цитаты
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Питер Акройд
Дата рождения: 5. Октябрь 1949
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Питер Акройд — британский писатель, поэт и литературный критик.
Цитаты Питер Акройд
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„The world is a sea in which we all must surely drown.“
— Peter Ackroyd, English Music
„The best years are when you know what you're doing.“
— Peter Ackroyd, English Music
„Under the force of the imagination, nature itself is changed.“
— Peter Ackroyd, The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein
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„The ordinary routines of life are never chronicled by the historian, but they make up almost the whole of experience.“
— Peter Ackroyd, Foundation: The History of England from Its Earliest Beginnings to the Tudors
„It is strange, is it not, how a person can adore one's soul so much that they adore one's body also?“
— Peter Ackroyd, The Last Testament of Oscar Wilde
„The endless chatter of this journey had wearied me.“
— Peter Ackroyd, The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein
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„He stood beneath the white tower, and looked up at it with that mournful expression which his face always carried in repose: for one moment he thought of climbing up its cracked and broken stone, and then from its summit screaming down at the silent city as a child might scream at a chained animal.“
— Peter Ackroyd, Hawksmoor
„For when I trace back the years I have liv'd, gathering them up in my Memory, I see what a chequer'd Work Of Nature my life has been. If I were now to inscribe my own History with its unparalleled Sufferings and surprizing Adventures (as the Booksellers might indite it), I know that the great Part of the World would not believe the Passages there related, by reason of the Strangeness of them, but I cannot help their Unbelief; and if the Reader considers them to be but dark Conceits, then let him bethink himself that Humane life is quite out of the Light and that we are all Creatures of Darknesse.“
— Peter Ackroyd, Hawksmoor
„Is Dust immortal then, I ask'd him, so that we may see it blowing through the Centuries? But as Walter gave no Answer I jested with him further to break his Melancholy humour: What is Dust, Master Pyne?
And he reflected a little: It is particles of Matter, no doubt.
Then we are all Dust indeed, are we not?
And in a feigned Voice he murmered, For Dust thou art and shalt to Dust return. Then he made a Sour face, but only yo laugh the more.“
— Peter Ackroyd, Hawksmoor
