Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: royalty kings french-revolution louis-xiv versailles
On those nights, the words were for me alone. They came up unbidden from my heart. They spilled over my tongue and spilled out my mouth. And because of them, I, who was nothing and nobody, was a prince of Denmark, a maid of Verona, a queen of Egypt. I was a sour misanthrope, a beetling hypocrite, a conjurer's daughter, a mad and murderous king.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: loneliness theater sad revolution acting stage
Happiness was useless to me. It was heartache that filled my purse. What happy man has need of Shakespeare?
Jennifer DonnellyTags: shakespeare theater revolution paris acting stage
For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: revolution young-adult strong-women strong-willed
Had you but seen it, I promise you, your high-minded principles would have melted like candle wax. Never would you have wished such beauty away.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: beauty excess class-struggle grandeur paris french-revolution louis-xiv wastefulness
I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: music sad guilt grief harmony guitars
And then I remember this morning and I wonder if it really happened or if I dreamed it. It was nice. And weird. And tender. I'm not used to tender. It's a fossil, that word. Conditions changed and it died out. Like the woolly mammoth. It just couldn't live in the same world as dick box. Ho dog. Or wiener cousins.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: romance profanity vulgarity young-adult tenderness young-love
Life, Rose well knew, could throw some hard punches at you, but nothing hurt as much as losing a child, or seeing one of your children hurt and suffering. Becoming a parent changed you forever, as nothing else could. Not good or bad fortune. Not friendships. Not even a man or a woman.
Jennifer DonnellyAnd I knew in my bones that Emily Dickinson wouldn't have written even one poem if she'd had two howling babies, a husband bent on jamming another one into her, a house to run, a garden to tend, three cows to milk, twenty chickens to feed, and four hired hands to cook for. I knew then why they didn't marry. Emily and Jane and Louisa. I knew and it scared me. I also knew what being lonely was and I didn't want to be lonely my whole life. I didn't want to give up on my words. I didn't want to choose one over the other. Mark Twain didn't have to. Charles Dickens didn't.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: writing loneliness feminism authors gender-roles
I need a boy who thinks with his big head, not his little one. Since they do not exist, I have fashioned my own.
Jennifer DonnellyTags: boys
« first previous
Page 8 of 17.
next last »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.