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Elinor Glyn
Elinor Glyn was a British novelist and scriptwriter known for her pioneering work in romantic fiction and for popularizing the concept of the "It Girl." Born in 1864, she achieved fame in the early 20th century with her scandalous novels, such as "Three Weeks," which challenged contemporary social norms. Glyn also worked in Hollywood, contributing to the early film industry by writing screenplays and consulting on romantic scenes.
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Elinor Glyn
RED HAIRBranches Park,November 3. I wonder so much if it is amusing to be an adventuress, because that is evidently what I shall become now. I read in a book all about it; it is being nice looking and having nothing to live on, and getting a pleasant time out of life—and I intend to do that! I have certainly nothing to live on, for one cannot count £300 a year; and I am extremely pretty, and I know...
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Elinor Glyn
THE DAMSEL AND THE SAGE nd the Damsel said to the Sage: "Now, what is life? And why does the fruit taste bitter in the mouth?" And the Sage answered, as he stepped from his cave: "My child, there was once a man who had two ears like other people. They were naturally necessary for his enjoyment of the day. But one of these ears offended his head. It behaved with stupidity, thinking thereby...
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Elinor Glyn
INTRODUCTION I have called this little collection of articles which I have written “THREE THINGS” because to me there seem to be just three essentials to strive after in life. Truth—Common Sense and Happiness. To be able to see the first enables us to employ the second, and so realise the third. And in these papers I have tried to suggest some points which may be of use to others who, like...
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Elinor Glyn
CHAPTER I The Sphinx was smiling its eternal smile. It was two o'clock in the morning. The tourists had returned to Cairo, and only an Arab or two lingered near the boy who held Tamara's camel, and then gradually slunk away; thus, but for Hafis, she was alone—alone with her thoughts and the Sphinx. The strange, mystical face looked straight at her from the elevation where she sat. Its...
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Elinor Glyn
HEAVILAND MANOR Heaviland Manor Dearest Mamma,—I hope you are taking every possible care of Hurstbridge and Ermyntrude and seeing that the sweet angels do not eat pounds of chocolate between meals. If I had known how Harry was going to behave to me over such a simple thing as the Vicomte's letter, I could never have let you take the children with you to Arcachon for these next months—I am...
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Elinor Glyn
I I have wondered sometimes if there are not perhaps some disadvantages in having really blue blood in one's veins, like grandmamma and me. For instance, if we were ordinary, common people our teeth would chatter naturally with cold when we have to go to bed without fires in our rooms in December; but we pretend we like sleeping in "well-aired rooms"—at least I have to. Grandmamma simply...
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Elinor Glyn
I February, 1918. I am sick of my lifeâThe war has robbed it of all that a young man can find of joy. I look at my mutilated face before I replace the black patch over the left eye, and I realize that, with my crooked shoulder, and the leg gone from the right knee downwards, that no woman can feel emotion for me again in this world. So be itâI must be a philosopher. Mercifully I have no near...
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Elinor Glyn
CHAPTER I t was Springtime in Switzerland! Once more the snow-capped mountains mirrored their proud heads in sapphire lakes; and on the beeches by the banks of Lake Lucerne green buds were bursting into leaves. Everywhere were bright signs of the earth's awakening. Springtime in Switzerland! And that, you know—you young hearts to whom the gods are kind—is only another way of saying Paradise!...
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Elinor Glyn
CHAPTER I Now this is an episode in a young man's life, and has no real beginning or ending. And you who are old and have forgotten the passions of youth may condemn it. But there are others who are neither old nor young who, perhaps, will understand and find some interest in the study of a strange woman who made the illumination of a brief space. Paul Verdayne was young and fresh and foolish when...
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Elinor Glyn
CHAPTER I Michael Arranstoun folded a letter which he had been reading for the seventh time, with a vicious intentness, and then jumping up from the big leather chair in which he had been buried, he said aloud, "Damn!" When a young, rich and good-looking man says that particular word aloud with a fearful grind of the teeth, one may know that he is in the very devil of a temper! Michael...
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