Women want love to be a novel. Men, a short story.

Daphne du Maurier

Stichwörter: writing



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They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word. To-day, wrapped in the complacent armour of approaching middle age, the infinitesimal pricks of day by day brush one but lightly and are soon forgotten, but then—how a careless word would linger, becoming a fiery stigma, and how a look, a glance over a shoulder, branded themselves as things eternal.

Daphne du Maurier

Stichwörter: age youth



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This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. To-day we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the same again.

Daphne du Maurier

Stichwörter: life home changes



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And he went on eating his marmalade as though everything were natural.

Daphne du Maurier


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And oh, heaven - the crowded playhouse, the stench of perfume upon heated bodies, the silly laughter and the clatter, the party in the Royal box - the King himself present - the impatient crowd in the cheap seats stamping and shouting for the play to begin while they threw orange peel on to the stage.

Daphne du Maurier

Stichwörter: waiting orange-peel royal-box



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Men are simpler than you imagine my sweet child. But what goes on in the twisted, tortuous minds of women would baffle anyone.

Daphne du Maurier


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I had build up false pictures in my mind and sat before them. I had never had the courage to demand the truth.

Daphne du Maurier


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It wouldn't make for sanity would it, living with the devil.

Daphne du Maurier


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She knew that this was happiness, this was living as she had always wished to live.

Daphne du Maurier


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All whispers and echoes from a past that is gone teem into the sleeper's brain, and he is with them, and part of them.

Daphne du Maurier


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