Author: Andrew Marvell

Cited by

• Peter Beagle (1)
  • IN: A Fine and Private Place (1960) Fiction, Fantasy, American
    EPIGRAPH: The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
    FROM: To His Coy Mistress, (1681), Poem, UK
• Anna Smaill (1)
  • IN: The Chimes (2015) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Then music, the mosaic of the air, Did of all these a solemn noise prepare; With which she gained the empire of the ear, Including all between the earth and sphere.
    FROM: Musick's Empire, (1681), Poem, UK
• Ellery Queen (1)
  • IN: A Fine and Private Place (1971) Fiction, Mystery, American
    EPIGRAPH: The graves a fine and private place.
    FROM: To His Coy Mistress, (1681), Poem, UK
• Walter Tevis (2)
  • IN: The Hustler (1959) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: No white nor red was ever seen, So am'rous as this lovely green...
    FROM: "The Garden", (1681), Poem, UK
  • IN: The Color of Money (1984) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Annihilating all that's made To a green thought, in a green shade.
    FROM: "The Garden", (1681), Poem, UK
• Dan Simmons (1)
  • IN: Ilium (2003) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Mean while the Mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness: The Mind, that Ocean where each kind Does straight its resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other Worlds, and other Seas; Annihilating all that’s made To a green Thought in a green Shade.
    FROM: The Garden, (1681), Poem, UK
• David Mark (1)
  • IN: Taking Pity (2015) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: Self-preservation, nature's first great law, All the creatures, except man, doth awe.
    FROM: NULL, (None), NULL, UK
• Angela Carter (1)
  • IN: Heroes and Villains (1969) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: See how he nak'd and fierce doth stand, Cuffing the Thunder with one hand; While with the other he does lock, And grapple, with the stubborn Rock; From which he with each Wave rebounds, Torn into Flames, and ragg'd with Wounds. And all he saes, a Lover drest In his own Blood does relish best.
    FROM: The Unfortunate Lover', (1649), Poem, UK
• A.S. Byatt (1)
  • IN: A Whistling Woman (1993) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: Here at the Fountain's sliding foot, Or at some Fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the Bodies vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide: There like a Bird it sits and sings, Then whets, and combs its silver Wings; And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various Light.
    FROM: The Garden, (1681), Poem, UK