Murray Gilchrist
Murray Gilchrist was a British novelist and short story writer, known for his vivid storytelling and exploration of the human condition. Born in 1868, he spent much of his early life in the English countryside, which would later influence the pastoral settings of his works. Gilchrist's literary career began in the late 19th century, and he became associated with the literary movement that sought to depict the complexities of rural life and the struggles of ordinary people. His notable works include "The Foolish Virgin" and "The House of the Wolf," both of which showcase his skill in character development and his ability to weave intricate narratives that reflect the social issues of his time. Gilchrist's writing is characterized by a deep empathy for his characters, often portraying their internal conflicts and moral dilemmas with sensitivity. His works, while not as widely recognized today, contributed to the evolution of the English novel, particularly in their focus on psychological depth and realism. He also wrote essays and criticism, further establishing his voice in the literary community. Despite his relatively short life, ending in 1917, Gilchrist's contributions to literature remain a testament to his talent and insight into the human experience.
Famous Quotes
View all 3 quotes“When she had arranged her household affairs, she came to the library and bade me follow her. Then, with the mirror still swinging against her knees, she led me through the garden and the wilderness down to a misty wood. It being autumn, the trees were tinted gloriously in dusky bars of colouring. The rowan, with his amber leaves and scarlet berries, stood before the brown black-spotted sycamore; the silver beech flaunted his golden coins against my poverty; firs, green and fawn-hued, slumbered in hazy gossamer. No bird carolled, although the sun was hot. Marina noted the absence of sound, and without prelude of any kind began to sing from the ballad of the Witch Mother: about the nine enchanted knots, and the trouble-comb in the lady's knotted hair, and the master-kid that ran beneath her couch. Every drop of my blood froze in dread, for whilst she sang her face took on the majesty of one who traffics with infernal powers. As the shade of the trees fell over her, and we passed intermittently out of the light, I saw that her eyes glittered like rings of sapphires. ("The Basilisk")”
“By now, at the end of a sloping alley, we had reached the shores of a vast marsh. Some unknown quality in the sparkling water had stained its whole bed a bright yellow. Green leaves, of such a sour brightness as almost poisoned to behold, floated on the surface of the rush-girdled pools. Weeds like tempting veils of mossy velvet grew beneath in vivid contrast with the soil. Alders and willows hung over the margin. From where we stood a half-submerged path of rough stones, threaded by deep swift channels, crossed to the very centre. ("The Basilisk")”
“None save her people knew her history, but there were wonderful stories of how she had bowed to tradition, and concentrated in herself the characteristics of a thousand wizard fathers. In the blossom of her youth she had sought strange knowledge, and had tasted thereof, and rued. ("The Basilisk")”
