Ellice Hopkins Quotes

“Gift like genius I often think only means an infinite capacity for taking pains.”

“Gift like genius I often think only means an infinite capacity for taking pains.”

“You will treat me with respect."He didn't say anything for a moment."What does that mean?" he finally asked.She looked over at him. "Do I need to explain that, your lordship? I would think an earl of your reputed stature would know the meaning of respect.”

“One could say that Hopkins practiced transubstantiation in every poem. By mysterious talent, he changed plain element into reality sublime. He encountered a jumble of weather, birds, trees, branches, waters, blooms, dewdrops, candle flames, prayers, then instressed them and, delighted, wrote in his journal, 'Chance left free toact falls into an order.”

“The Incarnation of Christ raised the energy of everything. And when Hopkins placed his conviction of this into poetry, he tended to mention electricity, lightening, fire, flash, flame. He wrote in his late, great poem, "That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and the comfort of the Resurrection": 'In a flash, at a trumpet crash, / I am all at once what Christ is, / since he was what I am and / This jack, joke, poor potsherd, / patch matchwood, immortal diamond, / Is immortal diamond.”

“These were not people you could disagree with. If you disagreed, you were wrong."Juliet Hopkins, Tavistock Institute, as quoted in Relationships and how They Shape Our Capacity to Love By Robert Karen”

“The author writes that key FDR aide Harry Hopkins was in such poor health near the end of his boss's second term that one observer said he didn't know how Hopkins could possibly report to the president. But, at the onset of war and genuine national emergency, Hopkins was animated with a new sense of purpose.”

“...Every word an author writes causes ripples, like tossing a stone into a pond. And you don't know where they'll go, or who they'll touch, or when they might come back to you. I think everything you do is kind of like that, too.”

“Nonfiction speaks to the head. Fiction speaks to the heart. Poetry speaks to the soul. It's the essence of beauty. The essence of pain. It pleases the eye and the ear.”

“I love the way she feels inthe curve of my arm. I loveher unpretentious beauty,her intelligence, her nerve.But could I ever love her?The concept of falling in loveis completely foreign, somethingI can’t bring myself to accept. Her hair pillows my cheek and her hand on my leg is warm. I care about you, Conner, and I hate to see you hurting. I want to respond but can’tfind the pretty words I need.”

“Innocence eroded into nightmare.All because of very bad touch.Love, corrupted.”