But there can be no secrets in a house where there are children.
In this cruel world kindness should always be repaid.
There are too many books in the world to read in a single life time. You have to draw the line somewhere.
Do they sense it, these dead writers, when their books are read? Does a pinprick of light appear in their darkness? Is their soul stirred by the feather touch of another mind reading theirs? I do hope so.
I've nothing against people who love truth. Apart from the fact that they make dull companions.
To anyone who took the trouble to look, I was plainly visible, but when people are expecting to see nothing, that is usually what they see.
Emmeline didn't call me anything. She didn't need, for I was always there. You only need names for the absent.
Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic. As one tends the graves of the dead, so I tend the books. And every day I open a volume or two, read a few lines or pages, allow the voices of the forgotten dead to resonate inside my head.
What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney?
Everybody has a story. It's like families. You might not know who they are, might have lost them, but they exist all the same. You might drift apart or you might turn your back on them, but you can't say you haven't got them. Same goes for stories.
My genius is not so frail a thing that it cowers from the dirty fingers of newspapernen.
When I was a child, books were everything. And so there is in me, always, a nostalgic, yearning for the lost pleasure of books. It is not a yearning that one ever expects to be fulfilled.
Families are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating.
Of course I loved books more than people.
When one is nothing, one invents. It fills a void.
A birth is not really a beginning. Our lives at the start are not really our own but only the continuation of someone else's story.
Fate, at first so amenable, so reasonable, so open to negotiation, ends up by exacting a cruel revenge for happiness.
Once upon a time there was a fairy godmother, but the rest of the time there was none. This story is about one of those other times.
A good story is always more dazzling than a broken piece of truth.
For it must be very lonely being dead.
One gets so used to one's own horrors, one forgets how they must seem to other people.
A story so cherished it has to be dressed in casualness to disguise its significance in case the listener turned out to be unsympathetic.
For me to see is to read. It has always been that way.
One needs no particular talent to be polite. On the contrary, being nice is what's left when you've failed at everything else.
After a great many questions I eventually ascertained that he is suffering from some kind of disorder of the mind. Is there anything more sorrowful than a brain whose proper function has been disrupted?
He has explained why it is that ambiguity touches his heart more nearly than the death and marriage style of finish that i prefer.
Our lives are so important to us that we tend to think the story of them begins with our birth. First there was nothing, then I was born...Yet that is not so. Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Families are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part without having a sense of the whole. - Vida Winter
All children mythologise their birth. It is a universal trait. You want to know someone? Heart, mind and soul? Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won't be the truth: it will be a story. And nothing is more telling than a story.
He turned from the daughters of minor aristocrats to those of farriers, farmers and foresters. Personally he couldn't tell the difference, yet the world seemed to mind less.
Politeness. Now there's a poor man's virtue if ever there was one. What's so admirable about inoffensiveness, I should like to know. After all, it's easily achieved. One needs no particular talent to be polite. On the contrary, being nice is what's left when you've failed at everything else. People with ambition don't give a damn what other people think about them.
More Diane Setterfield Quotations (Based on Topics)
Books - Truth - Birth - Family - People - World - Mind - Time - Courtesy - Light - Fate & Destiny - Children - Genius - Sense & Perception - Place - Death & Dying - Past - Miracles - Art - View All Diane Setterfield Quotations
More Diane Setterfield Quotations (By Book Titles)
- The Thirteenth Tale
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