H. Rider Haggard
Sir Henry Rider Haggard (22 June 1856 – 14 May 1925), born in Bradenham, Norfolk, England, was a Victorian writer of adventure novels set in locations considered exotic by readers in his native England.
- The food that memory gives to eat is bitter to the taste, and it is only with the teeth of hope that we can bear to bite it.
- She (1887), CHAPTER XVII, THE BALANCE TURNS
- You lie; you always were a liar, and you always will be a liar.
- Dawn (1884), CHAPTER I
- Out of the dark we came, into the dark we go. Like a storm-driven bird at night we fly out of the Nowhere; for a moment our wings are seen in the light of the fire, and, lo! we are gone again into the Nowhere.
- King Solomon's Mines (1885), CHAPTER V, OUR MARCH INTO THE DESERT
- The great wheel of Fate rolls on like a Juggernaut, and crushes us all in turn, some soon, some late
- Allan Quatermain (1887), INTRODUCTION
- There is no loneliness like the loneliness of crowds, especially to those who are unaccustomed to them.
- A Tale of Three Lions (1887), CHAPTER I, THE INTEREST ON TEN SHILLINGS
- There are things and there are faces which, when felt or seen for the first time, stamp themselves upon the mind like a sun image on a sensitized plate and there remain unalterably fixed.
- Colonel Quaritch, V. C.: A Tale of Country Life (1888), CHAPTER I, HAROLD QUARITCH MEDITATES
- For he was a merciful man, who loved not slaughter, although his fierce faith drove him from war to war.
- The Brethren (1904), PROLOGUE
- My death is very near to me, and of this I am glad, for I desire to pursue the quest in other realms, as it has been promised to me that I shall do.
- Ayesha: The Return of She (1905), CHAPTER I, THE DOUBLE SIGN
- We white people think that we know everything.
- Child of Storm (1913), CHAPTER I, ALLAN QUATERMAIN HEARS OF MAMEENA
- It is awkward to listen to oneself being praised, and I was always a shy man.
- Allan and the Holy Flower (1915), CHAPTER I, BROTHER JOHN
- I have never observed that the religious are more eager to die than the rest of us poor mortals.
- The Ancient Allan (1920), CHAPTER I, OLD FRIEND