“One never gets the same summer twice.”
― Philippa Gregory, quote from Wideacre
“I also felt a storm in the air. It prickled on the horizon. I felt it on my skin. The skies were clear, I could not wish for clearer. But I could feel the clouds massing against me, somewhere over the horizon.”
― Philippa Gregory, quote from Wideacre
“Wideacre faces due south and the sun shines all day on the yellow stone until it is warm and powdery to the touch. The sun travels from gable end to gable end so the front of the house is never in shadow. When I was a small child collecting petals in the rose garden, or loitering at the back of the house in the stable yard, it seemed that Wideacre was the very centre of the world with the sun defining our boundaries in the east at dawn, until it sank over our hills in the west, in the red and pink evening.”
― Philippa Gregory, quote from Wideacre
“Celia had ordered his favourite meal of wild duck cooked in limes, and I advised that we eat without him and save his portion for him to dine later. ‘He”
― Philippa Gregory, quote from Wideacre
“kinds of disguises and dance to all sorts of tunes to make myself Harry’s addiction. If he had not been fatally flawed, early corrupted by the brutality of his school, I should never have been able to keep him from Celia. I knew I was a hundred times more beautiful than she, a hundred times stronger. But I could not always remember that, when I saw the quiet strength she drew on when she believed she was morally right. And I could not be certain that every man would prefer me, when I remembered how Harry had looked at her with such love when we came back from France. I would never forgive Celia for that summer. Even though it was the summer when I cared nothing for Harry but rode and danced day and night with John, I would not forget that Celia had taken my lover from me without even making an effort at conquest. And now my husband bent to kiss her hand as if she were a queen in a romance and he some plighted knight. I might give a little puff of irritation at this scene played out before my very window. Or I might measure the weakness in John and think how I could use it. But use it I would. Even if I had felt nothing else for John I should have punished him for turning his eyes to Celia. Whether I wanted him or not was irrelevant. I did not want my husband loving anyone else. For dinner that afternoon I dressed with extra care. I had remodelled the black velvet gown that I had worn for the winter after Papa’s death. The Chichester modiste knew her job and the deep plush folds fitted around my breasts and waist like a tight sheath, flaring out in lovely rumpled folds over the panniers at my hips. The underskirt was of black silk and whispered against the thick velvet as I walked. I made sure Lucy powdered my hair well, and set in it some black ribbon. Finally, I took off my pearl necklace and tied a black ribbon around my throat. With the coming of winter, my golden skin colour was fading to cream, and against the black of the gown I looked pale and lovely. But my eyes glowed green, dark-lashed and heavy-lidded, and I nipped my lips to make them red as I opened the parlour door. Harry and John were standing by the fireplace. John was as far away from Harry as he could be and still feel the fire. Harry was warming his plump buttocks with his jacket caught up, and drinking sherry. John, I saw in my first sharp glance, was sipping at lemonade. I had been right. Celia was trying to save my husband. And he was hoping to get his unsteady feet back on the road to health. Harry gaped openly when he saw me, and John put a hand on the mantelpiece as if one smile from me might destroy him. ‘My word, Beatrice, you’re looking very lovely tonight,’ said Harry, coming forward”
― Philippa Gregory, quote from Wideacre
Philippa Gregory
Born place: in Kenya
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“It was evening back in what used to be the Southern Bohemian Occult when Charlotte and the coven walked through her familiar bent, iron gate, past the small cemetery, and under the long, forest tunnel. They walked into the town square she had not seen in what felt like an eternity. They were not greeted by any sort of parade. There were no celebrations for the unsung heroes of the night as they made their way past the old, abandoned inns and shops.”
― Shayne Leighton, quote from Of Light and Darkness
“„Ochii ei erau cu adevărat poem iar privirile alcătuiau fiecare un cântec.”
― Théophile Gautier, quote from Clarimonde
“There was no better time to intimidate than when waking someone from a deep sleep.”
― Alan Russell, quote from Exposure
“Interestingly, this was the only incident of blatant prejudice that I can
remember. But I am aware that such opinions exist in human beings, and
it's not a question of being Egyptian or being an Arab or being a Muslim.
One could be a Christian against a Jew or a Jew against a Christian, or a
white against a black, or a man against a woman. My philosophy is not
to let such attitudes stop me from what I want to do. I don't take it very
seriously, although as you can see, I remember the incident very well.
The point was I had to get on with my work and had to behave properly,
and in the process perhaps even change the opinion of these people. But
on the other hand, if I did nothing but complain and feel sorry for myself,
then I wouldn't get anywhere.”
― Ahmed H. Zewail, quote from Voyage Through Time: Walks of Life to the Nobel Prize
“He definitely had a feel for words, almost like an idiot-savant.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, quote from Songs of the Doomed: More Notes on the Death of the American Dream
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