She despised the sadness that hung inside her like old lace.
Sonya HartnettTags: sadness-lonelynes
Watching, she had felt unusually and keenly alive, alive the way a knife is sharp, so that the humiliation she was enduring was perfect, like the paring of skin from a hard apple.
Sonya HartnettTags: humiliation downfall
On the evening of her eighteenth birthday, Maddy opened her journal and made a list of the jewels and precious stones she'd held. Gold, diamond, emerald; ruby, turquoise, pearl; amber, jade, marble… There were some she had forgotten. Beneath these she listed what she thought were the most perfect tastes and smells. Coffee, cinnamon, peaches; vanilla, honey, basil; baking bread, fresh bread, toasting bread.
Sonya HartnettI am Gabriel, the messenger, the teller of astonishing truths.
Sonya HartnettThere's fire in my fingers. I burn everything I touch.
Sonya HartnettYou always underestimated me. You thought you made me harmless when you gave angelhood to me. You forgot that some angels are warriors. Where there's warriors, there's war. I will fight to the death. It's my duty. I am not afraid.
Sonya HartnettGoodbye, fin,' I say. And I wish I was going with him, to some warm sheltered hideaway in the hills, wish that I, too, could lie down beside the dog, feel his unbroken heartbeat, smell the dust in his fur.
There's only hours. I steel my courage.
Surrender.
Some things about him are the same as ever. He still looks painfully angelic.
Sonya HartnettMore than this, I believe that the only lastingly important form of writing is writing for children. It is writing that is carried in the reader's heart for a lifetime; it is writing that speaks to the future.
Sonya HartnettTags: children-s-literature australia
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