“The trouble with words is that no matter how much sense they make in theory, they can’t change what you feel inside.”
― Rebecca James, quote from Beautiful Malice
“And when I look into his eyes there’s a feeling of something I can only describe as familiarity, a sense of safety. Like coming home.”
― Rebecca James, quote from Beautiful Malice
“Katherine:Anyway, if you're not bad, you can't be good.
Robbie:What? You have to be bad to be good? That's stupid. It doesn't make any sense at all.
Katherine:No. It doesn't, does it? What I mean was that if you see the bad in yourself, and dislike it, and try not to feel it, then that's good. Nobody's really good through and through. At least I don't think so. Trying to be good, or at least trying not to be bad, is probably as close as we can get.
Robbie:Maybe you're right.
Katherine:Maybe I am...”
― Rebecca James, quote from Beautiful Malice
“True. But your're sad."
I sit up. "Am I?"
"I don't know. Are you?"
"I don't know. Are you?"
He laughs. "I am if you are. I'm not if you're not.”
― Rebecca James, quote from Beautiful Malice
“Nadie es completamente bueno de pies a cabeza. Al menos yo no lo creo. Intentar ser bueno, o al menos intentar no ser malo, es lo más parecido a ser buenos.”
― Rebecca James, quote from Beautiful Malice
“Truth or Dare?" she asks. I hesitate. "Truth," I say finally. "I can imagine one of your dares, and I don’t fancy running down Oxford Street naked tonight."
"Truth," Alice says slowly, drawing out the vowel sound as if she’s savouring the word. "Are you sure? Are you sure you can be completely honest?"
"I think so. Try me."
"Okay" And then she looks at me curiously. "So. Were you glad, deep down? Were you glad to be rid of her? Your perfect sister? Were you secretly glad when she died?"
Katherine has moved away from her shattered family to start afresh in Sydney. There she keeps her head down until she is befriended by the charismatic, party-loving Alice, who brings her out of her shell. But there is a dark side to Alice, something seductive yet threatening. And as Katherine learns the truth about Alice, their tangled destinies spiral to an explosive and devastating finale.”
― Rebecca James, quote from Beautiful Malice
“Katherine,” he says when we finish. We’re breathing each other’s air and lying side by side, our noses almost touching.
“Mick,” I say.
“I love your name. It suits you perfectly. Katherine. Katherine. Katherine and Mick.”
And when he says my name like that, right next to his, everything is different. I’ve never really liked being called Katherine—all this time, despite what I’ve said, I’ve desperately missed being called Katie. I’ve missed being Katie.
But I’m no longer Katie, I’m Katherine—and tonight, for the first time ever, I don’t want to be anyone else.”
― Rebecca James, quote from Beautiful Malice
Rebecca James
Born place: in Sydney, Australia
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“But whatever dismal appearance of things there may be in the world, we need not fear the ruin of the church by the most bloody oppositions. Former experiences will give security against future events. It is built on the rock, and those gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”
― John Owen, quote from The Glory of Christ
“He hadn’t observed Kowalski or Debany licking their mates’ hands.”
― Anne Bishop, quote from Marked in Flesh
“What is our life: (Pause.) it’s looking forward or it’s looking back. And that’s our life. That’s it. Where is the moment?”
― David Mamet, quote from Glengarry Glen Ross
“Perhaps writing only arouses the passions in order to allay them, as beaters flush out the game in order to expose it to the hunter's arrows.”
― Amin Maalouf, quote from Balthasar's Odyssey
“Marginalia
Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.
If I could just get my hands on you,
Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,
they seem to say,
I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head.
Other comments are more offhand, dismissive -
Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" -
that kind of thing.
I remember once looking up from my reading,
my thumb as a bookmark,
trying to imagine what the person must look like
who wrote "Don't be a ninny"
alongside a paragraph in The Life of Emily Dickinson.
Students are more modest
needing to leave only their splayed footprints
along the shore of the page.
One scrawls "Metaphor" next to a stanza of Eliot's.
Another notes the presence of "Irony"
fifty times outside the paragraphs of A Modest Proposal.
Or they are fans who cheer from the empty bleachers,
Hands cupped around their mouths.
Absolutely," they shout
to Duns Scotus and James Baldwin.
Yes." "Bull's-eye." "My man!"
Check marks, asterisks, and exclamation points
rain down along the sidelines.
And if you have managed to graduate from college
without ever having written "Man vs. Nature"
in a margin, perhaps now
is the time to take one step forward.
We have all seized the white perimeter as our own
and reached for a pen if only to show
we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages;
we pressed a thought into the wayside,
planted an impression along the verge.
Even Irish monks in their cold scriptoria
jotted along the borders of the Gospels
brief asides about the pains of copying,
a bird singing near their window,
or the sunlight that illuminated their page-
anonymous men catching a ride into the future
on a vessel more lasting than themselves.
And you have not read Joshua Reynolds,
they say, until you have read him
enwreathed with Blake's furious scribbling.
Yet the one I think of most often,
the one that dangles from me like a locket,
was written in the copy of Catcher in the Rye
I borrowed from the local library
one slow, hot summer.
I was just beginning high school then,
reading books on a davenport in my parents' living room,
and I cannot tell you
how vastly my loneliness was deepened,
how poignant and amplified the world before me seemed,
when I found on one page
A few greasy looking smears
and next to them, written in soft pencil-
by a beautiful girl, I could tell,
whom I would never meet-
Pardon the egg salad stains, but I'm in love.”
― Billy Collins, quote from Picnic, Lightning
Angel
This Man Confessed
Eye of the Needle
Written on the Body
First Grave on the R...
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