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Warwick Deeping

Warwick Deeping

Warwick Deeping was an English novelist and short story writer, best remembered for his poignant exploration of human relationships and social issues in early 20th-century England. His most notable work, "Sorrell and Son" (1925), tells the story of a father-son relationship set against the backdrop of World War I, capturing the emotional struggles and sacrifices faced by families during that tumultuous time. Deeping's ability to weave rich characterizations with themes of love, loss, and resilience earned him a significant place in English literature, appealing to readers with his empathetic portrayals of ordinary life. Throughout his career, Deeping published numerous novels and short stories, contributing to the literary landscape of his era. His works often reflected the changing social dynamics of post-war Britain, and he was known for his ability to tackle complex emotional and moral dilemmas. Despite being overshadowed by contemporaries, Deeping's legacy endures through his exploration of the human condition, making him a notable figure in the realm of early 20th-century literature.

Wikipedia

George Warwick Deeping (28 May 1877 – 20 April 1950) was an English novelist and short story writer, whose best-known no...

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Famous Quotes

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“She lay still awhile, and let her thoughts dance like the motes in the shimmer of sunlight that stole in between the branches.”

“She climbed out, and stood like a water nymph, her body agleam and asparkle with its dew, her skin like rare silk, smooth as a star's glance. Down fell her hair like smoke. She stretched her arms to the moon, and laughed, aglow with the warmth gotten of her swim.”

“Night was in the sky, night in her winter austerity - keen, clear, a-glitter with stars as though her robe were spangled with cosmic frost.”

“She lay still awhile, and let her thoughts dance like the motes in the shimmer of sunlight that stole in between the branches.”

“She climbed out, and stood like a water nymph, her body agleam and asparkle with its dew, her skin like rare silk, smooth as a star's glance. Down fell her hair like smoke. She stretched her arms to the moon, and laughed, aglow with the warmth gotten of her swim.”

“Night was in the sky, night in her winter austerity - keen, clear, a-glitter with stars as though her robe were spangled with cosmic frost.”

Books from the author

The Pride of Eve
A Woman's War: A Novel
The King Behind the King
Bess of the Woods
The Red Saint
The Slanderers
Martin Valliant
The House of Spies
The House of Adventure
The Seven Streams

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