Random ramblings and hopefully a few worthwhile thoughts about the things that mean the most to me - art, history, being an historic interpreter, fiction writing, independent publishing, and the occasional rant about the world we live in today. Call me crazy, but I would rather have lived in the 19th century.
The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is
invisible and mute, its memoried glances and its murmurs are infinitely
precious. We are tomorrow’s past.
ATTRIBUTION:Mary Webb (1881–1927), British author.