If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me?… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
The Cicada sing an endless song in the long grass, smells run along the earth and falling stars run over the sky, like tears over a cheek. You are the privileged person to whom everything is taken. The Kings of… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
Your own self, your personality and existence are reflected within the mind of each of the people whom you meet, ... into a likeness,… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
When we are young the idea of death or failure is intolerable to us; even the possibility of ridicule we cannot bear. But we… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
Here and there, in some older houses, old faded daguerreotypes still hang on the walls... They seem to us to be very simple... compared… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
“It is more than their land that you take away from the people, whose Native land you take. It is their past as well,… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
There was a place in the Hills, on the first ridge in the Game Reserve, that I myself at the time when I thought… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
People who dream when they sleep at night know of a special kind of happiness which the world of the day holds not, a… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
