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Saige England
Goodreads Author
Born
Ōtautahi Christchurch
Website
Twitter
Genre
Influences
Seamus Heanney, C.S. Lewis, Maya Angelou, Louise Eirdrich, Zora Neale
...more
Member Since
June 2012
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/saigevendome
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Saige England
One thousand and one nights. I would hide behind a curtain drifting dry desert sand, listening spellbound to the tales told by Shahrazad.
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The Seasonwife
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We Were Seeds: an anthology benefitting Palestine
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Saige’s Recent Updates
"I found this historical novel set right before, during, and after, the Titanic's maiden voyage a gripping read. Elinor, only child of a wealthy cotton manufacterer, is skillfully conned into marriage by a pedigreed-but-poor upper class family. Withou"
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"4.5 stars"
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"This was excellent! I really enjoyed the entire premise behind this book. Elinor comes from a wealthy family with self made money. She thinks she finds her dream man in Frederick Storton the future lord of Winterton Hall. However things are not what "
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"I see you, Frances Quinn. I see what incredible writing you do. This was my first book from you and it won't be the last. I don't usually read books from this time period but I was intrigued by the Titanic aspect and the storyline. And it delivered. "
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Jan 26, 2026 08:22PM
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“History says, Don’t hope
On this side of the grave,
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme”
―
On this side of the grave,
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme”
―
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
― I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
― I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
“When God had made The Man, he made him out of stuff that sung all the time and glittered all over. Some angels got jealous and chopped him into millions of pieces, but still he glittered and hummed. So they beat him down to nothing but sparks but each little spark had a shine and a song. So they covered each one over with mud. And the lonesomeness in the sparks make them hunt for one another.”
― Their Eyes Were Watching God
― Their Eyes Were Watching God
“Human beings suffer,
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.
The innocent in gaols
Beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker's father
Stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
Faints at the funeral home.
History says, don't hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.
So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracle
And cures and healing wells.
Call miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there's fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky
That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.”
―
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.
The innocent in gaols
Beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker's father
Stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
Faints at the funeral home.
History says, don't hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.
So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracle
And cures and healing wells.
Call miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there's fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky
That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.”
―
“Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. We have to resume it where we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance even of joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain.”
― The Picture of Dorian Gray
― The Picture of Dorian Gray
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