Mary Augusta Ward née Arnold; (11 June 1851 – 24 March 1920), was a British novelist who wrote under her married name as Mrs Humphry Ward. Read full biography of Mary Augusta Ward →
As far as intellectual training was concerned, my nine years from seven to sixteen were practically wasted.
But the mind travels far - and mysteriously - in sleep.
We believed that growth through Local Government, and perhaps through some special machinery for bringing the wishes and influence of women of all... →
How little those who are schoolgirls of today can realize what it was to be a schoolgirl in the fifties or the early sixties of the last century!
For after my marriage I had made various attempts to write fiction. They were clearly failures.
It is the rank and file - the average woman - for whom the world has opened up so astonishingly.
The answer, of course, in the mouth of a Christian teacher is that in Christianity alone is there both present joy and future hope.
A life spent largely among books, and in the exercise of a literary profession, has very obvious drawbacks, as a subject-matter, when one comes to... →
I loved nearly all my teachers; but it was not till I went home to live at Oxford, in 1867, that I awoke intellectually to a hundred interests and... →
I wanted to show how a man of sensitive and noble character, born for religion, comes to throw off the orthodoxies of his day and moment, and to go... →
In this choice, as I look back over more than half a century, I can only follow - and trust - the same sort of instinct that one follows in the art... →
So as the years draw on toward the Biblical limit, the inclination to look back, and to tell some sort of story of what one has seen, grows upon most... →
But a girl of seventeen is not always thinking of books, especially in the Oxford summer term.