
In an interview in Rolling Stones Magazine, September 30, 2010, talking about his father who was killed in WWII.
Miscellaneous
Quoted in The Hidden Face, by Ida Gorres, p. 52
In an interview in Rolling Stones Magazine, September 30, 2010, talking about his father who was killed in WWII.
Miscellaneous
pg. 39-40
Pretty Mess book (2018)
And if David asks why I decline, I explain that it is because I have no desire to meet the woman.
"Come this time, father," he urged lately, "for it is her birthday, and she is twenty-six," which is so great an age to David, that I think he fears she cannot last much longer.
Source: The Little White Bird (1902), Ch. 1
“My father," said she, "is there any daughter that can love her father more than duty requires? In my opinion, whoever pretends to it, must disguise her real sentiments under the veil of flattery. I have always loved you as a father, nor do I yet depart from my purposed duty; and if you insist to have something more extorted from me, hear now the greatness of my affection, which I always bear you, and take this for a short answer to all your questions; look how much you have, so much is your value, and so much do I love you.”
"Est uspiam pater mi filia quae patrem suum plus quam patrem presumat diligere? Non reor equidem ullam esse quae hoc fateri audeat nisi iocosis veritatem celare nitatur. Nempe ego dilexi te semper ut patrem, et adhuc a proposito meo non divertor. Et si ex me magis extorquere insistis, audi cercudinem amoris quae adversum te habeo et interrogationibus tuis finem impone: et enim quantum habes tantum vales tantumque te diligo."
Bk. 2, ch. 11; p. 115.
Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain)
Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow (1886)
Context: And who would not risk its terrors to gain its raptures? Ah, what raptures they were! The mere recollection thrills you. How delicious it was to tell her that you loved her, that you lived for her, that you would die for her! How you did rave, to be sure, what floods of extravagant nonsense you poured forth, and oh, how cruel it was of her to pretend not to believe you! In what awe you stood of her! How miserable you were when you had offended her! And yet, how pleasant to be bullied by her and to sue for pardon without having the slightest notion of what your fault was! How dark the world was when she snubbed you, as she often did, the little rogue, just to see you look wretched; how sunny when she smiled! How jealous you were of every one about her! How you hated every man she shook hands with, every woman she kissed—the maid that did her hair, the boy that cleaned her shoes, the dog she nursed—though you had to be respectful to the last-named! How you looked forward to seeing her, how stupid you were when you did see her, staring at her without saying a word! How impossible it was for you to go out at any time of the day or night without finding yourself eventually opposite her windows!