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Nobody's Perfect: Writings from The New Yorker
— published 2002 — 7 editions |
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Kent Ports and Harbours
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Thameside Through Time
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Front Line Harbour: A History of the Port of Dover
— published 2011 |
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Maritime Kent
— published 2000 |
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Guiding Lights: The Design & Development of the British Lightship from 1732
— published 2001 |
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Shipwrecks of Kent
— published 2004 |
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John Calvin Student of the Church Fathers
by Anthony N. S. Lane, Anthony N. Lane, Anthony Lane — published 2000 — 2 editions |
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Sarah Morris: Beijing
by Colin Chinnery , Anthony Lane, Andrea Phillips — published 2010 |
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Howard Hodgkin, Paintings 1992-2007
by Howard Hodgkin, Richard Morphet, Anthony Lane — published 2007 |
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“[W]e are not merely tempered and schooled by failure but compelled, in however subtle a fashion, to become something other than we were.”
― Anthony Lane
― Anthony Lane
“There’s no two ways about it, Tolkien fans are a funny bunch. I should know, for I was one of them. Been there, done that, read the book, gone mad. I first took on The Lord of the Rings at the age of eleven or twelve; to be precise, I began it at the age of eleven and finished at the age of twelve. It was, and remains, not a book that you happen to read, like any other, but a book that happens to you: a chunk bitten out of your life. (http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2001...)”
― Anthony Lane
― Anthony Lane
“It is true that the ideal Housman reader would have the Authorized Version of the Bible, especially the Book of Isaiah, the Psalms, and Ecclesiastes, at his or her fingertips, plus a heavy grounding in Milton and, for good measure, all of Horace and Heine; but we regret that the ideal reader is unavailable at this time, and thus the field is left open to nonprofessionals—to those who have just enough time to wonder why a poem that appears, in paraphrase, to be full of the joys of spring should sound, with its long autumnal vowels, like a lament:
When green buds hang in the elm like dust
And sprinkle the lime like rain,
Forth I wander, forth I must
And drink of life again.
Forth I must by hedgerow bowers
To look at the leaves uncurled
And stand in the fields where cuckoo flowers
Are lying about the world.
As Housman said, in some annoyance, about a line of Milton's that made him weep, "What in the world is there to cry about?”
― Anthony Lane, Nobody's Perfect: Writings from The New Yorker
When green buds hang in the elm like dust
And sprinkle the lime like rain,
Forth I wander, forth I must
And drink of life again.
Forth I must by hedgerow bowers
To look at the leaves uncurled
And stand in the fields where cuckoo flowers
Are lying about the world.
As Housman said, in some annoyance, about a line of Milton's that made him weep, "What in the world is there to cry about?”
― Anthony Lane, Nobody's Perfect: Writings from The New Yorker
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