Sometimes I think I am going mad. I live for days in the mystery and tears of things so that the commonest object, the most familiar face- even my own- become ghostly, unreal, enigmatic. I get into an attitude of… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
“The porter spends his days in the Library keeping strict vigil over this catacomb of books, passing along between the shelves and yet never… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
Sometimes I think I am going mad. I live for days in the mystery and tears of things so that the commonest object, the… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
“I have reveled in my littleness and irresponsibility. It has relieved me of the harassing desire to live, I feel content to live dangerously,… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
Suddenly I awake to a stark amazement at everything... To be alive is so incredible that all I can do is to lie still… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
“To forget the past so easily seems scarcely loyal to oneself. I am so selfishly absorbed in my present self that I have grown… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
I waste much time gaping and wondering. During a walk or in a book or in the middle of an embrace, suddenly I awake… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
I can remember wondering as a child if I were a young Macaulay or Ruskin and secretly deciding that I was. My infant mind… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
An appetite for knowledge is apt to rush one off one's feet, like any other appetite if not curbed. I often stand in the… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
“When the sun grew too hot we went into the wood where waves of Bluebells dashed around the foot of the Oak in front… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
“When I feel ill, cinema pictures of the circumstances of my death flit across my mind's eye. I cannot prevent them. I consider the… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
In the enfranchised mind of the scientific naturalist, the usual feelings of repugnance simply do not exist. Curiosity conquers prejudice. — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
Youth is an intoxication without wine, someone says. Life is an intoxication. The only sober man is the melancholiac, who, disenchanted, looks at life,… — W.N.P. Barbellion Copy Share Image
