A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all the stands in its path.
Too much mercy … often resulted in further crimes which were fatal to innocent victims who need not have been victims if justice had been put first and mercy second.
I live now on borrowed time, waiting in the anteroom for the summons that will inevitably come. And then – I go on to the next thing, whatever it is. One doesn’t luckily have to bother about that.
I didn’t want to work. It was as simple as that. I distrusted work, disliked it. I thought it was a very bad thing that the human race had unfortunately invented for itself.
The human mind prefers to be spoon-fed with the thoughts of others, but deprived of such nourishment it will, reluctantly begin to think for itself and such thinking, remember is original thinking and may have valuable results.
I have enjoyed greatly the second blooming that comes when you finish the life of the emotions and of personal relations; and suddenly find—at the age of fifty, say—that a whole new life has opened before you, filled with things you can think about, study, or read about…It is as if a fresh sap of ideas and thoughts was rising in you.
I know nothing about pistols and revolvers, which is why I usually kill off my characters with a blunt instrument or better with poisons. Besides, poisons are neat and clean and really exciting… I do not think I could look a really ghastly mangled body in the face. It is the means that I am interested in. I do not usually describe the end, which is often a corpse.
Topics: Authors & Writing
One does what one can, not what one cannot.
That was what, ultimately, war did to you. It was not the physical dangers–the mines at sea, the bombs from the air, the crisp ping of a rifle bullet as you drove over a desert track. No, it was the spiritual danger of learning how much easier life was if you ceased to think.
There is nothing so dangerous for anyone who has something to hide as conversation! A human being, Hastings, cannot resist the opportunity to reveal himself and express his personality which conversation gives him. Every time he will give himself away.
I’ve always believed in writing without a collaborator, because when two people are writing the same book, each believes he gets all the worries and only half the royalties.
I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
Topics: Endurance, Adversity, Talent, Living, Blessings
Wondering Whom to Read Next?
- Dorothy L. Sayers British Novelist
- P. D. James British Novelist
- Graham Greene British Novelist
- Beryl Bainbridge British Novelist
- Gladys Bronwyn Stern British Novelist
- Doris Lessing British Novelist, Poet
- Dodie Smith British Novelist
- H. G. Wells English Novelist, Historian
- Mary Elizabeth Braddon British Novelist
- Arnold Bennett British Novelist