Twelve thousand miles of it, to the other side of the world. And whether they came home again or not, they would belong neither here, nor there, for they would have lived on two continents and sampled two different ways of life. Colleen McCullough More Quotes by Colleen McCullough More Quotes From Colleen McCullough My fictitious characters will take the bit between their teeth and gallop off and do something that I hadn't counted on. However, I always insist on dragging them back to the straight and narrow Colleen McCullough bits teeth character There's a story... a legend, about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree... and never rests until it's found one. And then it sings... more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. And singing, it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn. But, as it dies, it rises above its own agony, to outsing the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird pays its life for just one song, but the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles. Colleen McCullough smile god song Each of us has something within us which won't be denied, even if it makes us scream aloud to die. We are what we are, that's all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast, singing its heart out and dying. Because it has to, its self-knowledge can't affect or change the outcome, can it? Everyone singing his own little song, convinced it's the most wonderful song the world has ever heard. Don't you see? We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it. Colleen McCullough pain heart song The bird with the thorn in its breast, it follows an immutable law; it is driven by it knows not what to impale itself, and die singing. At the very instant the thorn enters there is no awareness in it of the dying to come; it simply sings and sings until there is not the life left to utter another note. But we, when we put the thorns in our breasts, we know. We understand. And still we do it. Still we do it. Colleen McCullough singing law bird There are no ambitions noble enough to justify breaking someone's heart. Colleen McCullough ambition heart love I hate being on my best behavior. It brings out the absolute worst in me. Colleen McCullough worst hate behavior If you love people, they kill you. If you need people, they kill you. They do I tell you! Colleen McCullough ifs people needs The lovely thing about being forty is that you can appreciate twenty-five-year-old men more. Colleen McCullough women birthday appreciation Belief doesn't rest on proof or existence...it rests on faith...without faith there is nothing. Colleen McCullough proof existence belief Best of all she liked his eyes, such a translucent golden brown, and so laughing. Colleen McCullough golden eye laughing What was sleep? A blessing, a respite from life, an echo of death, a demanding nuisance? Colleen McCullough echoes blessing sleep Perfection, in anything, is unbearably dull. Myself, I prefer a touch of imperfection. Colleen McCullough imperfection perfection dull When we press the thorn to our chest we know, we understand, and still we do it. Colleen McCullough chests stills knows That's the purpose of old age... To give us a breathing space before we die, in which to see why we did what we did. Colleen McCullough breathing-space age giving Old age is an ordeal, of flesh and mind. Of winding down, of slowing down, of dying cells. It's accepting the loss of physical attractiveness and replacing it with the power and wisdom that can only come with old age. Colleen McCullough cells wisdom loss And gradually his memory slipped a little, as memories do, even those with so much love attached to them; as if there is an unconscious healing process within the mind which mends up in spite of our desperate determination never to forget. Colleen McCullough determination healing memories Love and hate are cruel, only liking is kind Colleen McCullough love-and-hate hate kind I think explicit love scenes are a turn off unless it's the kind you read with one hand. Colleen McCullough kind hands thinking duty, the most indecent of all obsessions, was only another name for love. Colleen McCullough duty obsession names Yet there's something ominous about turning sixty-five. Suddenly old age is not a phenomenon which will occur; it has occurred. Colleen McCullough ominous phenomenon age
