Frederick Rolfe (1860 – 1913)
English novelist, short-story writer, eccentric, and would-be Roman Catholic priest.
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That cold white candent voice which was more caustic than silver nitrate and more thrilling than a scream.
It's all nonsense to say that the Fifteenth Century can't possibly speak to the Twentieth, because it is the Fifteenth and not the Twentieth, and because those two Centuries haven't got a Common Denominator. They have. It's Human Nature.
Pray for the repose of His soul. He was so tired.
An appeal to a goodness which is not in him is, to a vain and sensitive soul, a stinging insult.
He took the imperial hand and shook it in the glad-to-see-you-but-keep-off English fashion.
Most people have only half developed their single personalities. That a man should split his into four and more; and should develop each separately and perfectly, was so abnormal that many normals failed to understand it.
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