
Elizabeth A. Sharp was a Scottish author and editor, best known for her contributions to Celtic literature and her intimate memoir of her husband, the poet William Sharp. Born in 1856, she played a significant role in the literary scene of her time, particularly in the revival of interest in Celtic culture and poetry. Her most notable work, 'Lyra Celtica: An Anthology of Representative Celtic Poetry,' published in 1902, showcased a rich collection of Celtic poetry, highlighting the works of both well-known and lesser-known poets. This anthology not only celebrated the beauty of Celtic verse but also served to elevate the cultural significance of Celtic heritage in the broader literary landscape. In addition to her editorial work, Elizabeth compiled 'William Sharp (Fiona Macleod): A Memoir Compiled by His Wife Elizabeth A. Sharp,' which provided a personal glimpse into the life of her husband, who wrote under the pseudonym Fiona Macleod. This memoir is notable for its emotional depth and insight into the creative process of a man who was a pivotal figure in the Celtic Revival. Through her writings, Elizabeth A. Sharp contributed to the preservation and appreciation of Celtic literature, leaving a lasting legacy that continues to influence scholars and readers interested in this rich cultural tradition.
“Well, He had known what love was-a sharp pang, a fierce experience, in the midst of whose flames he was struggling! but, through that furnace he would fight his way out into the serenity of middle age,-all the richer and more human for having known this great passion.””
“My cheeks are hot when he stalks right up to me, eyes narrowed. Pinched between his bloody fingers is a piece of scrap metal laced with seilgflùr from the blunderbuss”
“At the stomp of boots on grass, I ease my eyes open. Aithinne leans down with a grin. “You didn’t die. See? I told you it was easy.” She offers me a hand and I take it, rising unsteadily to my feet.“I’ve been bitten by some demonic woodland creature. My legs have been shredded by razor-sharp trees. We almost died. Easy? I’m getting you a damn dictionary.”I inspect my bleeding arm. The cut bisects five of the marks Lonnrach made, and I feel inexplicably proud of that. Good. Replace the old, bad memories with new badges. Start over.“A dictionary,” she repeats. “Is that a type of dessert?”For the love of”
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