But now she could not bear the way she sounded. She was not a person anyone could love.. And thus fled to her room. There she wept, bitterly, an ugly sound punctuated by great gulps. She could not stop herself. She could hear his footsteps in the passage outside. He walked up and down, up and down.' Come in, ' she prayed. 'Oh dearest, do come in.' But he did not come in. He would not come in. This was the man she had practically contracted to give away her fortune to. He offered to marry her as a favour and then he would not even come into her room. Later, she could smell him make himself a sweet pancake for his lunch. She thought this a childish thing to eat, and selfish, too. If he were a gentleman he would now come to her room and save her from the prison her foolishness had made for her. He did not come. She heard him pacing in his room. . Peter Carey
Do you think we can be friends?” I asked. He stared up at the ceiling. “Probably not, but we can pretend.
-
Priya Ardis
When I walk, I walk with you. Where I go, you're with me always.
-
Alice Hoffman
...he had a way of taking your hand which made it clear he'd have to be the one to let go." From Alice Hoffman's "Local Girls", pg.102.
-
Alice Hoffman
Vane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.” British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.
-
Priya Ardis
So I learned two things that night, and the next day, from him: the perfection of a moment, and the fleeting nature of it.
-
Margaret George
More Quotes By Peter Carey
...it was born out of habits of mind produced by Christianity: that if you sacrificed yourself you would somehow attain the object of your desires. It was a knife of an idea, a cruel instrument of sacrifice...
I did not know that history is like a blood stain that keeps on showing on the wall no matter how many new owners take possession, no matter how many times we pint over it.
To know you will be lonely is not the same as being lonely.
But now she could not bear the way she sounded. She was not a person anyone could love.. And thus fled to her room. There she wept, bitterly, an ugly sound punctuated by great gulps. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>She could not stop herself. She could hear...
He was tender with her. He wiped her eyelids with his handkerchief, not noticing how soiled it was. It was stained with ink, crumpled, stuck together. Her lids were large and tender and the handkerchief was stiff, not nearly soft enough. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>He moistened...
