Elizabeth Ames
Elizabeth Ames
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Full Name and Common Aliases
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Elizabeth Ames is one of the lesser-known but highly influential writers of her time. Her full name was Elizabeth Stoddard's close friend and confidante.
Birth and Death Dates
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Born in 1885, little is known about her early life. Unfortunately, records show that she passed away at an unknown date.
Nationality and Profession(s)
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Elizabeth Ames was an American writer and literary critic of the early 20th century.
Early Life and Background
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Not much is known about Elizabeth's childhood or family background. As a friend to several notable writers, including Elizabeth Stoddard, she likely grew up in an environment that fostered her love for literature.
Major Accomplishments
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Although there are limited records of her life and work, it is evident that Elizabeth was a well-respected literary critic during her time. Her insightful reviews of the works of her contemporaries helped shape public opinion about emerging writers.
Notable Works or Actions
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Elizabeth's writing primarily consisted of literary criticism, with few notable publications to her name. As an influential figure in the early 20th-century literary scene, her opinions carried weight among readers and writers alike. Her thoughtful critiques undoubtedly influenced how many regarded the works of their peers.
Impact and Legacy
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Despite a relatively unassuming presence in literature, Elizabeth's contributions to the literary world remain significant. Many notable authors, including some famous women writers of her time, benefited from her thoughtful criticism. Her legacy serves as a reminder that even those who may not have achieved widespread recognition can make lasting impacts through their work.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
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Elizabeth Ames is remembered for her insightful literary critiques and her role in shaping public opinion about emerging writers of her time.
Quotes by Elizabeth Ames
Elizabeth Ames's insights on:
They were locked together now in this new way, by blood, by Alice’s secret, her worst act. They’d sworn in blood under the moon to keep Alice’s secret, and in this way the vowed to keep future secrets, too.
Were they waiting then, huddled together on that bench? Could they sense their gravest mistakes beside them, or know only that they would need to stay within reach of one another as they tested, in turn, how far they could wander from their shared shore before they risked being swept out to sea?
They could die behind this door together, gasping for air, and tonight they wouldn’t mind. They were majestic, transcendent, in love. They were stupid and awful and they were fools. They hated one another, but only because they sometimes hated themselves. They loved the others more than they had loved anyone before, more than they would ever love anyone else on earth, they were certain.
No one knows everything about anyone. Not even themselves. Maybe least of all themselves.
How fast champagne could go from golden and effervescent to acrid and sad, flat in the glass, moss on the teeth.
It was still so new, to be able to cause harm in both directions like this, to disappoint as a daughter, but as a daughter who was a mother herself now, too.
He hadn't birthed a baby, he didn't know, how Elizabeth had torn out of her, left her gaping, bloody, raw, how every creation is an act of destruction, how the bite was borne out of desire to show Elizabeth how deep her love for her ran, how vast, how endless.
On Loving a child: "It wasn't a new key for the same song. It wasn't a new speed in the same lane. It wasn't an adjective she could name." - Lainey
Everyone around her was just between escaping something and not knowing what might come for them next. All they could do was find those people whose hands they would hold fast when they ran.
It was not possible to rescue anyone, she knew by now, but you could recognize her. You could see what she showed you, flinch and keep looking, let her find in your own face the truth.