#lon

To be able to forget means sanity. ↗

— Jack London

#forgetting #sanity #london

Have you ever seen An American Werewolf in London? Well, I'm not American. I'm not a werewolf, and this isn't London. ↗

— Lynsay Sands

#london

And I know I can do this because I went to London on my own, and because I solved the mystery…and I was brave and I wrote a book and that means I can do anything. ↗

— Mark Haddon

#self-confidence #london

As one grows weaker one is less susceptible to suffering. There is less hurt because there is less to hurt. ↗

— Jack London

#suffering #weak #weakness #london

He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. ↗

— J.M. Barrie

#barrie #children #grown-up-poetry #kesnington-gardens #london

Anyone who has the temerity to write about Jane Austen is aware of [two] facts: first, that of all great writers she is the most difficult to catch in the act of greatness; second, that there are twenty-five elderly gentlemen living in the neighbourhood of London who resent any slight upon her genius as if it were an insult to the chastity of their aunts. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#criticism #jane-austen #london

White Fang knew the law well: to oppress the weak and obey the strong. ↗

— Jack London

#london

Will looked as if he were being asked to believe in something impossible—snow in summertime, a London winter without rain. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#tessa-gray #will-herondale #london

I also think he is given to disguises...Sometimes he wears spectacles and sometimes he does not. And twice he has worn an extremely peculiar hat. Inside. ↗

— Julia Quinn

#hat #spying #suspicious #london

I wondered why it was that places are so much lovelier when one is alone. How commonplace and stupid it would be if I had a friend now, sitting beside me, someone I had known at school, who would say: “By-the-way, I saw old Hilda the other day. You remember her, the one who was so good at tennis. She’s married, with two children.” And the bluebells beside us unnoticed, and the pigeons overhead unheard. I did not want anyone with me. Not even Maxim. If Maxim had been there I should not be lying as I was now, chewing a piece of grass, my eyes shut. I should have been watching him, watching his eyes, his expression. Wondering if he liked it, if he was bored. Wondering what he was thinking. Now I could relax, none of these things mattered. Maxim was in London. How lovely it was to be alone again. ↗

— Daphne du Maurier

#solitude #love