Quotes by Mary Ann Shaffer

It is my belief that with two such men in the household and no way to meet others, Emily (Bronte)had to make Heathcliff up out of thin air! And what a fine job she did. Men are more interesting in books than they are in real life.

‎What a blight that woman is. Do you happen to know why? I lean toward a malignant fairy at her christening.

But you want to know about the influence of books on my life, and as I’ve said, there was only one. Seneca. Do you know who he was? He was a Roman philosopher who wrote letters to imaginary friendstelling them how to behave for the rest of their lives.. Maybe that sounds dull, but the letters aren’t – they’re witty. I think you learn more if you’re laughing at the same time.

When I got up this morning the sea was full of sun pennies - and now it all seems to be covered in lemon scrim. Writers ought to live far inland or next to the city dump, if they are ever to get any work one. Or perhaps they need to be stronger-minded than I am.

Its a real lightning bolt, this Science of Phrenology. Ive found out more in the last three days than I knew in my whole life before. Mrs. Guilbert has always been a nasty one, but now I know that she cant help it—shes got a big pit in her Benevolence spot. She fell in the quarry when she was a girl, and my guess is she cracked her Benevolence and was never the same since.

Do you know what sentence of his (Wordsworth) I admire the most? It is The bright day is done, and we are for the dark. I wish Id known those words on the day I watched those German troops land, plane-load after plane-load of them--and come off ships down in the harbor! All I could think of was damn them, damn them, over and over. If I could have thought the words “the bright day is done and we are for the dark,” I’d have been consoled somehow and ready to go out and contend with circumstance—instead of my heart sinking to my shoes.

Friends, show me a man who hates himself, and Ill show you a man who hates his neighbors more! Hed have to—youd not grant anyone else something you cant have for yourself—no love, no kindness, no respect!

I believe I am becoming pathetic. Ill go further, I believe that I am in love with a flower-growing, wood-carving quarryman/carpenter/pig farmer. In fact, I know I am. Perhaps tomorrow I will become entirely miserable at the thought that he doesnt love me back - may, even, care for Remy- but at this precise moment I am succumbing to euphoria. My head and stomach feel quite odd.

Boredom is a powerful reason, and the prospect of fun is a powerful draw - especially when you are young.

Visitors offering their condolences, thinking to comfort me, said Life goes on. What nonsense, I thought, of course it doesnt. Its death that goes on; Ian is dead now and will be dead tomorrow and next year and forever. Theres no end to that. But perhaps there will be an end to the sorrow of it.

Sorrow has rushed over the world like the waters of the Deluge, and it will take time to recede. But already, there are small islands of - hope? Happiness? Something like them, at any rate.

I never met a man half so true as a dog. Treat a dog right, and hell treat you right. Hell keep you company, be your friend, and never ask you no questions. Cats is different, but I never held that against em.

I don’t much care for people—never have, never will. I got my reasons. I never met a man half so true as a dog. Treat a dog right and he’ll treat you right—he’ll keep you company, be your friend, never ask you no questions. Cats is different, but I never held that against them.

Hes got that way of believing his opinion is the truth, but hes not disagreeable about it. Hes too sure hes right to bother being disagreeable.

Oh bless Speranza, for giving her son such a preposterous name as Oscar Fingal OFlahertie Wills Wilde.

But the truth is that Im gloomy - gloomier than I ever was during the war. Everything is so broken, Sophie: the roads, the buildings, the people. Especially the people.

All his flowers have been awaiting me on my arrival. I dont know whether to feel flattered or hunted.

I kept trying to explain and he kept shouting until I began to cry from frustration. Then he felt remorseful, which was so unlike him and endearing that I almost changed my mind and said yes. But then I imagined a lifetime of having to cry to get him to be kind, and I went back to no again.

She gathered a circle of children around her and commenced singing For Those Who Peril on the Sea over their little heads. But no, safety from storms wasnt enough for her. God had to keep them from being blown up too. She set about ordering the poor things to pray for their parents every night- who knew what the German soldiers might do to them? Then she said to be especially good little boys and girls so Mama and Daddy could look down on them from heaven and BE PROUD OF THEM...she had those children crying and sobbing fit to die.I was too shocked to move, but no, not Elizabeth. No, quick as an adders tongue, she had ahold of Adelaides arm and told her to SHUT UP.Let me go! Adelaide cried. I am speaking the Word of God!Elizabeth, she got a look on her that would turn the devil to stone, and then she slapped Adelaide right across the face!

“What on earth did you say to Isola? She stopped in on her way to pick up Pride and Prejudice and to berate me for never telling her about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Why hadnt she known there were better love stories around? Stories not riddled with ill-adjusted men, anguish, death and graveyards!”