Radclyffe Hall Quotes

The sorrows of childhood are mercifully passing, for it is only when maturity has rendered soil mellow that grief will root very deeply. Stephen's

Stephen, why are you shivering?'
'I don't know, my darling.'
'Mary, why are you crying?'
'I don't know, Stephen.'
p424

You're neither unnatural, nor abominable, nor mad; you're as much a part of what people call nature as anyone else; only you're unexplained as yet
you've not got your niche in creation. But some day that will come, and meanwhile don't shrink from yourself, but face yourself calmly and bravely. Have courage; do the best you can with your burden. But above all be honourable. Cling to your honour for the sake of those others who share the same burden. For their sakes show the world that people like you and they can be quite as selfless and fine as the rest of mankind. Let your life go to prove this
it would be a really great life-work, Stephen.

The grey of a bitter, starved-looking morning. The town like a mortally wounded creature, torn by shells, gashed open by bombs. Dead streets - streets of death - death in streets and their houses; yet people still able to sleep and still sleeping.

Writing, it was like a heavenly balm, it was like the flowing out of deep waters, it was like the lifting of a load from the spirit; it brought with it a sense of relief, of assuagement. One could say things in writing without feeling self-conscious, without feeling shy and ashamed and foolish -- one could even write of the days of young Nelson, smiling a very little as one did so.

Man could not live by darkness alone, one point of light he must have for salvation
one point of light.

[On homosexuality:] Our love may be faithful even unto death and beyond - yet the world will call it unclean.

Outrageous ... that wilfully selfish tyranny of silence evolved by a crafty old ostrich of a world for its own well-being and comfort.

A few dauntless souls even enter the chemist's -- that shamelessly anatomical chemist's, whose wares do not figure in school manuals on the practical uses of rubber.

Ugly, degrading, rather terrible half-truths ... It is bad for the soul to know itself a coward, it is apt to take refuge in mere wordy violence ... Their hearts ached while their lips formed recriminations. Their hearts burst into tears while their eyes remained dry and accusing, staring in hostility and anger ... They could not forgive and they could not sleep, for neither could sleep without the other's forgiveness, and the hatred that leapt out at moments between them would be drowned in the tears that their hearts were shedding.

The world hid its head in the sands of convention, so that by seeing nothing it might avoid Truth.

To her it seemed an inevitable thing as much a part of herself as her breathing; and yet it appeared transcendent of self, and she looked up and onwards towards her love
for the eyes of the young are drawn to the stars and the spirit of youth is seldom earth-bound. p146

Since this is a hard and sad truth for the telling; those whom nature has sacrificed to her ends
her mysterious ends that often lie hidden
are sometimes endowed with a vast will to loving, with an endless capacity for suffering also, which must go hand in hand with their love. p 146

Do you believe in God, Martin?'
And he answered, 'Yes, because of His trees. Don't you?'
'I'm not sure ... '
'Oh, my poor, blind Stephen! Look again, go on looking until you do believe.

Life had already taught Stephen one thing, and that was that never must human beings be allowed to suspect that a creature fears them. The fear of the one is a spur to the many, for the primitive hunting instinct dies hard -- it is better to face a hostile world than to turn one's back for a moment.

I have put my pen at the service of some of the most persecuted and misunderstood people in the world. So far as I know nothing of the kind has ever been attempted before in fiction.

Those who have reached the seventh incarnation carry with them all that was learnt, suffered and experienced in the previous six. Life for them is a perpetual and unsatisfying deja vu. Nothing is new, truly interesting, truly vital. Everything has done before, even before it begins. Such a soul is said to live a 'Saturday Life

And hearing him, Stephen found herself thinking that all men had something simple about them; something that took pleasure in the things that were blameless, that longed, as it were, to contact Nature.

For together with those who themselves being normal, had long put intellects above bodies, were writers, painters, musicians and scholars, men and women who, set apart from their birth, had determined to hack out a niche in existence.

But her mother had looked at her curiously, gravely, puzzled by this creature who seemed all contradictions - at one moment so hard, at another so gentle, gentle to tenderness, even. Anna had been stirred, as her child had been stirred, by the breath of the meadowsweet under the hedges; for in this they were one, the mother and daughter, having each in her veins the warm Celtic blood that takes note of such things - could they only have divined it, such simple things might have formed a link between them.

For the Celtic soul is the stronghold of dreams, of longings come down the dim paths of the ages; and within it there dwells a vague discontent, so that it must for ever go questing. And

What a terrible thing could be freedom. Trees were free when they were uprooted by the wind; ships were free when they were torn from their moorings; men were free when they were cast out of their homes - free to starve, free to perish of cold and hunger.

If our love is a sin, then heaven must be full of such tender and selfless sinning as ours.

Yes, it was trying to get her under, this world with its mighty
self-satisfaction, with its smug rules of conduct, all made to be broken
by those who strutted and preened themselves on being what they
considered normal. They trod on the necks of those thousands of others
who, for God knew what reason, were not made as they were; they prided
themselves on their indignation, on what they proclaimed as their
righteous judgments.

This is only the beginning. Many die, many kill their bodies and souls, but they cannot kill the justice of God, even they cannot kill the eternal spirit. From their very degradation that spirit will rise up to demand of the world compassion and justice

Why should this girl have crossed Stephen's path, or indeed Stephen hers, if it came to that matter? Was not the world large enough for them both? Perhaps not - or perhaps the event of their meeting had already been written upon tablets of stone by some wise if relentless recording finger.

A great many women can feel and behave like men. Very few of them can behave like gentlemen.

So now Stephen must actually learn at first hand hwo straight can run the path of true love, in direct contradiction to the time-honoured proverb. Must realize more clearly than ever, that love is only permissible to those who are cut in every respect to life's pattern.

My dear, don't be foolish, there's nothing strange about you, someday you may meet a man you can love. And supposing you don't, well, what of it, Stephen? Marriage isn't the only career for a woman.

There is something mankind can never destroy in spite of an unreasoning will to destruction, and this is its own idealism, that integral part of its very being.

For the sake of all the others who are like you, but less strong and less gifted perhaps, many of them, it's up to you to have the courage to make good.

It is bad for the soul to know itself a coward, it is apt to take refuge in mere wordy violence.

But now, here she was, very wishful to pray, while not knowing how to explain her dilemma: 'I'm terribly unhappy, dear, unprobable God - ' would not be a very propitious beginning.

Life's not all beer and skittles

An ungentlemanly war it will be,' he grumbled. 'Will I lead my men with a sword? Ah, but no! I will lead my men with a dirty revolver in my hand. Parbleu! Such is modern warfare! A machine could do the whole cursed thing better -- we shall all be nothing but machines in this war.

The eyes of the young are drawn to the stars, and the spirit of youth is seldom earth-bound.

But Pierre, who like all who have known the sea was a child at heart, broke into loud exclamations

Too late, too late, your love gave me life. Here am I the creature you made through your loving; by your passion you created the thing that I am. Who are you to deny me the right to love? But for you I need never have known existence.

The eye of youth is very observant. Youth has its moments of keen intuition, even normal youth
but the intuition of those who stand mi-way between the sexes is so ruthless, so poignant, so deadly, as to be in the nature of an added scourge ...

Clothes, after all, are a form of self-expression.

But her eyes would look cold, though her voice might be gentle, and her
hand when it fondled would be tentative, unwilling. The hand would be
making an effort to fondle, and Stephen would be conscious of that
effort. Then looking up at the calm, lovely face, Stephen would be filled
with a sudden contrition, with a sudden deep sense of her own
shortcomings; she would long to blurt all this out to her mother, yet
would stand there tongue-tied, saying nothing at all.

Language is surely too small a vessel to contain these emotions of mind and body that have somehow awakened a response in the spirit.

Strange it is, but unforgettable moments are often connected with very small happenings, happenings that assume fictitious proportions, especially when we are children.

Nothing appears to succeed like success in a world that is principally made up of failure.

The doctors cannot make the ignorant think, cannot hope to bring home the sufferings of millions; only one of ourselves can someday do that ... It will need great courage but it will be done, because all things must work toward ultimate good; there is no real wastage and no destruction.

What remained? Loneliness, or worse still, far worse because it so deeply degraded the spirit, a life of perpetual subterfuge, of guarded opinions and guarded actions, of lies of omission if not of speech, of becoming an accomplice in the world's injustice by maintaining at all times a judicious silence, making and keeping the friends one respected, on false pretences, because if they knew they would turn aside, even the friends one respected.

Wars come and wars go but the world does not change: it will always forget an indebtedness which it thinks it expedient not to remember.