In my collection of bound volumes of Victorian and Edwardian magazines, I often come across the name of Marie Corelli (1855-1924) — a popular British novelist who “despite the sneers of her critics, always has something to say worth saying” (in the words of an editorial in the London Magazine, in which her essay, Swagger Religionists, first appeared in 1912). She certainly has a good turn of phrase, as in “…that flagrant assumption of easy familiarity with the Deity which unfortunately vulgarises almost every formula of the Christian faith…” She is buried in Stratford-upon-Avon, England, close to where I grew up.
“I never married because…I have three pets at home which answer the same purpose as a husband. I have a dog which growls every morning, a parrot which swears all afternoon, and a cat that come home late at night.” — Marie Corelli
“Let me be mad, then, by all means! mad with the madness of Absinthe, the wildest, most luxurious madness in the world! Vive la folie! Vive l’amour! Vive l’animalisme! Vive le Diable!” — Marie Corelli, Wormwood: A Drama of Paris
“No one is contented in this world, I believe. There is always something left to desire, and the last thing longed for always seems the most necessary to happiness.” — Marie Corelli, A Romance of Two Worlds
“If we choose to be no more than clods of clay, then we shall be used as clods of day for braver feet to tread on.” — Marie Corelli