And perhaps there is a limit to the grieving that the human heart can do. As when one adds salt to a tumbler of water, there comes a point where simply no more will be absorbed. Sarah Waters More Quotes by Sarah Waters More Quotes From Sarah Waters All I can do is write about whatever grabs me. Sarah Waters i-can can-do writing We have a name for your disease. We call it a hyper-aesthetic one. You have been encouraged to over-indulge yourself in literature; and have inflamed your organs of fancy. Sarah Waters indulge-yourself literature names I suppose I really seemed mad, then; but it was only through the awfulness of having said nothing but the truth, and being thought to be deluded. Sarah Waters nothing-but-the-truth mad said Ours is a world which feels so unsettled and dangerous in large ways, whether its terrorism or global financial meltdown or climate change - huge things that affect us deeply, and yet things about which we can do, individually, very little. Sarah Waters climate littles way She supposed that houses, after all - like the lives that were lived in them - were mostly made of space. It was the spaces, in fact, which counted, rather than the bricks. Sarah Waters bricks space house life is crap but, every day is an experience Sarah Waters crap life-is .. now i begin to feel a longing so great, so sharp, i fear it will never be assuaged. i think it will mount, and mount, and make me mad, or kill me. Sarah Waters longing mad thinking It was heavy, and I staggered when I lifted it; but it was strangely satifying to have a real burden upon my shoulders – a kind of counterweight to my terrible heaviness of heart. Sarah Waters kind real heart I wouldnt mind being a fly on the wall in a few Victorian parlours. Sarah Waters victorian wall mind Read like mad. But try to do it analytically - which can be hard, because the better and more compelling a novel is, the less conscious you will be of its devices. It's worth trying to figure those devices out, however: they might come in useful in your own work. Sarah Waters mad writing trying The bad blood rose in me, just like wine. Sarah Waters wine rose blood ..this feeling haunts and inhabits me, like a sickness. it covers me, like skin. Sarah Waters sickness skins feelings There is no patience so terrible as that of the deranged. Sarah Waters no-patience deranged terrible Weep all the artful tears you like. You shall never make my hard heart the softer. Sarah Waters like-you tears heart She scissored the curls away, and - toms, grow easily sentimental over their haircuts, but I remember this sensation very vividly - it was not like she was cutting hair, it was as if I had a pair of wings beneath my shoulder-blades, that the flesh had all grown over, and she was slicing free. Sarah Waters cutting hair wings What does it say?" I said, when I had. She said, "It is filled with all the words for how I want you...Look. Sarah Waters doe want looks I've just finished a series of Olivia Manning novels. She's best known for two trilogies: Balkan Trilogy and Levant Trilogy. The six novels are continuous and contain the same set of characters. They are based on Manning's experiences in Eastern Europe and Egypt during the Second World War. Each novel is a wonderful picture of the peculiar British expatriate culture and what was happening during the war. She's one of those brilliant women who write very well about domestic relationships. All the books are slim, and it's easy to gallop through them. Sarah Waters character war book Your heart-as you call it-and hers are alike, after all: they are like mine, like everyone's. They resemble nothing so much as those meters you will find on gas-pipes: they only perk up and start pumping when you drop coins in. Sarah Waters meter coins heart I used to hate flying. I would sit there, rigid, convinced that if I relaxed, the plane would drop out of the sky. Sarah Waters flying hate sky We fitted together like the two halves of an oyster-shell. I was Narcissus, embracing the pond in which I was about to drown. However much we had to hide our love, however guarded we had to be about our pleasure, I could not long be miserable about a thing so very sweet. Nor, in my gladness, could I quite believe that anybody would be anything but happy for me if only they knew. Sarah Waters oysters sweet believe
