The bowed head, the buried face. She is silent, she will never speak, never forgive, never reach a hand, never leave this frozen present tense. All waits, suspended. Suspended the autumn trees, the autumn sky, anonymous people. A blackbird, poor fool, sings out of season from the willows by the lake. A flight of pigeons over the houses; fragments of freedom, hazard, an anagram made flesh. And somewhere the stinging smell of burning leaves.
("The Magus")
More Quotes from John Fowles:
Duty largely consists of pretending that the trivial is critical.John Fowles
He was one of the most supremely stupid men I have ever met. He taught me a great deal.
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I was too green to know that all cynicism masks a failure to cope - an impotence, in short; and that to despise all effort is the greatest effort of all.
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The more abhorrent a news item the more comforting it was to be the recipient, since the fact that it had happened elsewhere proved that it had not happened here, was not happening here, and would therefore never happen here
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Our accepting what we are must always inhibit our being what we ought to be.
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Men love war because it allows them to look serious. Because it is the one thing that stops women laughing at them.
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Based on Topics: Autumn Quotes, Faces Quotes, Fool Quotes, Forgiveness Quotes, Liberty & Freedom Quotes, Nature Quotes, People Quotes, Speaking QuotesBased on Keywords: anagram, blackbird, willows
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