Quotes by Jessie Burton

What are we all chasing? Nella wonders. To live, of course. To be unbound from the invisible ropes that Johannes spoke of in his study. Or to be happy in them, at least.

A piece of art only succeeds when its creator...possesses the belief that brings it into being

Like most artists, everything I produced was connected to who I was - and so I suffered according to how my work was received. The idea that anyone might be able to detach their personal value from their public output was revolutionary.

I’m doing the absolute opposite of giving myself away. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll be completely visible. If the painting sells, I’ll be in Paris, hanging on a wall. If anything, I’m being selfish. It’s perfect; all the freedom of creation, with none of the fuss.

You are a stone, thrown upon a lake. But the ripples you create will never make you still.

This city is like no other city in the world. It is brilliant but it is bloated, and Ive never called it home

The turnip cannot thrive in the tulips patch of soil.

The rules of this house are written in water. I must either sink or swim.

Because, Petronella - its something in his soul. Its something in his soul and you cant get it out.

All we can do if were lucky is stich up the mistakes other people make.

That may be. But to decide that I was never going to live as a proper woman was not your choice to make. What do you mean a proper woman? A proper woman marries - she has children - Then what does that make me? Am I not a proper woman? Last time I looked I certainly was.

Love your children, for they are the seeds that will make this city bloom.

Words are water in this city. One drop of rumour could drown us.

Take care, take care. This city thrives! Its money gives you wings to soar. But it is a yoke on your shoulders and you would do well to take note of the bruise around your neck.

Believe it or dont believe it, Madame. But my feet are tired too. Bloody tired. Like a dead mans.

Were nothing more than prisoners to your desire.

The ink was secret nectar, for Marin isnt married.

There are horizons through the brickwork, you wait and see.

What was once, is no longer.

The night darkens, the stars unfriendly, the cold a knife upon her neck - but Nella waits, until she can no longer difference between Johannes and the darkness that carries him away.