“ She was not certain what she wanted from life, or what to expect from it, for she had seen so little of it, but she was sure that in some way - because she willed it to be so - her wants and her expectations were the same.
For a while after their marriage she was in such demand that it was not unpleasant when he fell asleep. Presently, however, he began sleeping all night, and it was then she awoke more frequently, and looked into the darkness, wondering about the nature of men, doubtful of the future, until at last there came a night when she shook her husband awake and spoke of her own desire. Affably he placed one of his long white arms around her waist; she turned to him then, contentedly, expectantly, and secure. However, nothing else occurred, and in a few minutes he had gone back to sleep.
This was the night Mrs. Bridge concluded that while marriage might be an equitable affair, love itself was not.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“Her first name was India-she was never able to get used to it.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“He remembered enthusiasm, hope, and a kind of jubilation or exultation. Cheerfulness, yes, and joviality, and the brief gratification of sex. Gladness, too, fullness of heart, appreciation, and many other emotions. But not joy. No, that belonged to simpler minds.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“But not joy. No, that belonged to simpler minds.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“You’re not as cold as you pretend to be,’ she said. ‘I think your doors open in different places, that’s all. Most people just don’t know how to get in to you. They knock and they knock where the door is supposed to be, but it’s a blank wall. But you’re there. I’ve watched you. I’ve seen you do some awfully cold things warmly and some warm things coldly. Or does that make sense?”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“The years were falling over like ducks in a shooting gallery, and it seemed to Mr. Bridge that he had scarcely taken aim at one when it disappeared.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“I wouldn't have missed it for the world," said Mrs. Bridge, smiling all around, "and I feel awfully lucky. Even so we were certainly glad to see the Union Station. I suppose no matter how far you go there's no place like home."
She could see they agreed with her, and surely what she had said was true, yet she was troubled and for a moment she was almost engulfed by a nameless panic.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“some people go skimming over the years of existence to sink gently into a placid grave, ignorant of life to the last, without ever having been made to see all it may contain; and”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“Trenta, trentacinque, quaranta: gli anni erano sempre passati a farle visita come zie criticone, e sempre erano scomparsi senza lasciare traccia, senza fare rumore. E adesso ne era arrivato un altro.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
“Passava molto tempo a fissare il vuoto, oppressa da un senso di attesa. Ma attesa di che cosa? Non lo sapeva.”
― Evan S. Connell, quote from Mrs. Bridge
Evan S. Connell
Born place: in Kansas City, MO, The United States
Born date September 17, 1924
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“Yes, it's beautiful,' said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne's uplifted face, 'but wouldn't it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been no separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?”
― L.M. Montgomery, quote from Anne of Avonlea
“Come on, say it again. I'm a perfect devil. Tell me how bad I am. It makes me feel so good!”
― Anne Rice, quote from The Queen of the Damned
“The man is mollified. The systematic juices leave off bubbling, the fires sink, the coals are scattered.
But the anger is still there, apart. Energy is never lost; a primal law.
-"Mad House”
― Richard Matheson, quote from I Am Legend and Other Stories
“But he had never seen Myrna in practice...never that close up. He had been impressed and a little frightened by the contrast between seeing ballet on stange, where everyone seemed to either glide or mince effortlessly on the tips of their pointes. and seeing it from less than five feet away, with harsh daylight pouring in the floor-to-ceiling windows and no music- only the choreographer rythmically clapping his hands and yelling harsh criticisms. No praise, only criticisms. Their faces ran with sweat. Their leotards were wet with sweat. The room, as large and airy as it way, stank of sweat. Sleek muscles trembled and fluttered on the nervous edge of exhaustion. Corded tendons stood out like insulated cables. Throbbing veins popped out on foreheads and necks. Except for the choreographer's clapping and angry, hectoring shouts, the only sounds were the thrup-thud of ballet dancers on pointe moving across the floor and harsh, agonized panting for breath. Jack had suddenly realized that these dancers were not just earning a living, they were killing themselves. Most of all he remembered their expressions- all that exhausted concentration, all that pain... but transcending the pain, or at least creeping around its edges, he had seen joy. Joy was unmistakably what that look was, and it scared Jack because it had seemed inexplicable.”
― Stephen King, quote from The Talisman
“How true it was that one needed to be seen by others to be sure of one's own existence.”
― A.S. Byatt, quote from Possession
Wise Children
Reservation Blues
The Empress's Tomb
Desolation Angels
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