Panacea
You're all wounded and hurt and torn inside.
You have to endure something yourself before it touched you.
You have blotted out the past for me, you know, far more effectively than all the bright lights of Monte Carlo. But for you I should have left long ago, gone to Italy, and Greece, and further still pe...
You have blotted out the past for me, far more effectively than all the bright lights of Monte Carlo.
Whether he talked or not made little difference to my mood. My only enemy was the clock on the dash-board, whose hands would move relentlessly to one o'clock.
We're not meant for happiness, you and I.
We can see the film stars of yesterday in yesterday’s films, hear the voices of poest and singers on a record, keep the plays of dead dramatists upon our bookshelves, but the actor who holds his audie...
We can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest, strug...
Truth was something intangible, unseen, which sometimes we stumbled upon and did not recognize, but was found, and held, and understood only by old people near their death, or sometimes by the very pu...
There was never an accident.Rebecca was not drowned at all. I killed her.I shot Rebecca in the cottage in the cove.I carried her body to the cabin, and took the boat out that night and sunk it there,...
There was Manderley, our Manderley, secretive and silent as it had always been, the gray stone shining in the moonlight of my dream...
There is no going back in life, no return, no second chance. I cannot call back the spoken word or the accomplished deed.
The world of today asleep, and my world not awakened, or not as yet, until the drug possessed me.
The unnamed narrator of Rebecca begins her story with a dream, with a first sentence that has become famous: Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again. Almost all the brief first chapter is devot...
The trouble is that goodness dies, and lies buried in the earth. Cleverness passes on and becomes degenerate.
The point is, life has to be endured, and lived. But how to live it is the problem.
The door from the kitchen opened, and the smell of Freada’s Chesterfield cigarettes
The carriages and the folk who rode in them, gorgeously if sometimes absurdly attired, had made a kind of magic, and given a fairy-tale glitter to the capital. Now it seemed just like any other city,
Tall and dark she was. She gave you the feeling of a snake. I seen her here with me own eyes. By night she'd come.