Some might count sheep. Teddy counted the towns and cities he had tried to destroy, that had tried to destroy him. Perhaps they had succeeded.
Slattern! What a wonderful new word. 'Slattern,' I murmur appreciatively to Patricia.'Yes, slattern,' Bunty says firmly. 'That's what she is.''Not a slut like you then?' Patricia says very quietly. Lo...
Sister Michael turned and looked at him, and, despite her plump, jolly face, she had nuns’ eyes, and nuns’ eyes, Jackson knew, could see right inside your head, so he nodded respectfully at the statue...
She'd had a glimpse of a possible future-the pretty cottage, the garden full of flowers and vegetables, bread in the oven, a bowl of strawberries on the table, the happy baby hitched on her hip while...
She was flawed, no longer intact. On the other hand, she felt as if she had been scourged clean. The past no longer weighed so heavily on the present.
She supposed she was a little cog in the big wheel of Empire. Nothing wrong with being a cog, Maurice said, himself now a big wheel in the Home Office. The world needs cogs.
She had never been without a book for as long as she could remember. An only child never is.
She had had affairs over the years ... but she had never been pregnant, never been a mother or a wife and it was only when she realized that it was too late, that it could never be, that she understoo...
She had been here before. She had never been here before. There was always something just out of sight, just around a corner, something she could never chase down—something that was chasing her down.
She didn’t feel she had the fortitude for all those Tudors, they were so relentlessly busy – all that bedding and beheading.
She didnt see the point of alcohol, or drugs. People had little enough control over their lives without losing more.
Secrets had the power to kill a marriage
Running wasn’t pointless, of course. Sometimes you did it to try to outrun your thoughts, sometimes you did it to chase them and bring them down. Sometimes you did it so that you didn’t think at all.
One of the remarkable things about Life After Life is the way that this formal experimentation is combined with a consistently involving plot. It is as if the writing of B. S. Johnson had been crossed...
No woman was ever truly safe. It didn’t matter if you were as tough as Sigourney Weaver in Alien Resurrection or Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2 because wherever you went there were men.
Mum had worshipped Princess Di and frequently lamented her passing. Gone, she would say, shaking her head in disbelief. Just like that. All that exercise for nothing.
Moira and the girls and they soon resumed their furtive
Love. Love wasn’t sweet and light, it was visceral and overpowering. Love wasn’t patient, love wasn’t kind. Love was ferocious, love knew how to play dirty.
Love was the hardest thing. Don't let anyone ever tell you different.
Look at the Germans, the most cultured and well mannered of people, and yet… Auschwitz, Treblinka, Bergen-Belsen. Given the same set of circumstances it could just as well have been the English,