43 Quotes by Mary Webb

For the more a soul conforms to the sanity of others, the more does it become insane.

There is surely no more unselfish person than the anthologist. For while all we others are striving to ensure our own immortality with eagerness, beguilements, buffooneries, loud voices, 'the sound of battle and garments rolled in blood,' the anthologist is quietly ensuring the immortality of somebody else.

The love of nature is a passion for those in whom it once lodges. It can never be quenched. It cannot change. It is a furious, burning, physical greed, as well as a state of mystical exaltation. It will have its own.

Saddle your dreams before you ride em.

The well of Providence is deep. It’s the buckets we bring to it that are small.

Nature’s music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.

We are tomorrow’s past.

For the world is founded and built up on death, and the reality of death is neither to be questioned nor feared. Death is a dark dream, but it is not a nightmare. It is mankind’s lack of pity, mankind’s fatal propensity for torture, that is the nightmare.

The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow’s past.