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“... told his early lover Pamela Hansford Johnson. ‘I’m like a baby in the dark,’ he explained to Henry Treece, an Apocalyptic poet who wrote the first critical book about him, and with whom Thomas had a long and revealing correspondence. Being infantile was useful as a would-be disarming way of acknowledging his worldly incompetence: ‘These apologies, we ...”

“... the galvanised iron relief by Donald Judd wouldn’t have looked better over there, where the green lacquered one was. The two things that struck me most forcefully about him were his innocence – he had, after all, agreed to speak to me ‘off the record’ despite all the horrible innuendoes I had made about him, and his ordinariness, in my Guardian ...”

“... Irish history has, however, come from post-Althusserian scholars like Paul Bew, Peter Gibbon and Henry Patterson,* and their work on the class dynamics of Unionism, as well as the nature of Southern nationalism, leads to very different conclusions: Struggles over the status of the North are no more automatically anti-imperialist than crimes against property ...”

“... journal with the impressive title of Discourse Agatha Christie’s Endless Night is compared with Henry James’s The Wings of the Dove. Who – we may murmur – cares who killed Milly ...”

“... over the idea that every writer must be an artist of the first class,’ the director of the FWP, Henry G. Alsberg, said: I think we have invested art with this sort of sacrosanct, ivory-tower atmosphere too much. The craftsmen who worked on the cathedrals were anonymous . . . I think cheap books, less fuss about our sacred personalities, and more service to ...”

“... knew his work was exposed to weathering. The land artists are at ease with change. They go beyond Henry Moore’s pleasure in the greening of his bronzes by oxidation (especially near the sea). Talking to John Fowles in 1987, Andy Goldsworthy came out with this wonderfully relaxed notion: ‘Ten years ago I made a line of stones in Morecambe Bay. It is still ...”

“... The Country Child, both for adult readers, she brought ‘the whole of my childhood, eternal and green’ to a very large number of readers. ‘The figures of my mother and father come alive and talk gravely to one another.’ Even Little Grey Rabbit and Milkman Hedgehog, she insists, are Late Victorian rustics. In a foreword to the later editions, she wrote ...”

“... Each footstep stirred A melancholy shriek from vines that trailed Up a cathedral’s height to the green mist, And drifting down were scattered veils of light. I do not doubt the benevolence of that Untrodden place. We lived. And were five years Upon the island, where every shape betrayed The trailing hem of nature. Nothing was asked, Nothing vouchsafed which ...”

“... Hampden, and is duly enchanted. ‘The sun was rising over mountains, and birches, and impossibly green meadows ... it was like a country from a dream.’ Richard wants to major in Classics, but he is told that the subject is in the hands of one professor, Julian Morrow, who has only five students. He decides to seek out Morrow, and the writing excitedly ...”

“... the bedroom in which she poses. It’s eerie without being contrived, like a scene from a novel by Henry Green. Brandt’s formal attitude here is well matched by the cold intimacy of Freud’s portraits of Kitty Garman and Caroline Blackwood. But in other respects these crisp early Freuds seem the antithesis of the postwar style. Girl in a ...”

“... flights of fancy become tedious, I slowly walk up the path that leads to the mountain. The pale green trees undulate as a single mass, their flowers a riot of unbelievably beautiful colours.By contrast, the woman prefers to walk around Seoul at night, among shadows and LED lights, passing dive bars and canals, crossing rubbish-strewn underpasses and ...”

“... ways her genius as a publisher continued to lie in publicity and marketing – the recognisable green livery of the Virago Modern Classics showed her sense of aesthetics as well as her commercial acumen. To establish the new publishing house for writing by women, she drew together a band of collaborators: Harriet Spicer, Ruthie Petrie, Ursula Owen ...”

“... Luto means ‘mourning’, but also gestures to Shakespeare and Fletcher’s song from Henry VIII: ‘Orpheus with his lute made trees/…/Bow themselves when he did sing.’ Such poems allow patterns of pattern-making to overlap and inform one another, from butchers’ precision to woodcuts to singing to scribal practice. ‘My father’s cuts ...”

“... greatness and purpose, through the values elicited from the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales and Henry IV Part One, Keats’s Odes and Tom Jones, Emma and Tess. It is still happening, even after we have got historians to stop drilling them in the battles we won, and when geographers no longer offer them maps in which the Empire is coloured red. Penguin ...”

“... on time I don’t linger to admire the scenery. Every time I go past the fountain, near where Henry Royce’s statue used to stand, I mutter and tick away to myself: ‘Fkin bastids fkin bastids fkin bastids’. I saw that on a wall once and it seems to express something inchoate and furious. The Council came and took away the statue, which had always ...”