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A speculator is a man who, if he dies at the right time, has a rich widow.

Christina Stead

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Christina Stead
Age: 80 †
Born: 1902
Born: July 17
Died: 1983
Died: March 31
Novelist
Politician
Short Story Writer
Translator
Writer
Rockdale City
Time
Speculator
Speculators
Widow
Widows
Rich
Dies
Right
Men

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The French are a tremendously verbal race: they kill you with their assurances, their repetitions, their reasons, their platitudes, their formulae, their propositions, their solutions.
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The sensuality, delicacy of literature does not exist for me only the passion, energy and struggle… Most of my friends deplore this: they are always telling me what I should leave out in order to have success. But I know that nothing has more success in the end than an intelligent ferocity.
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Creation of something out of nothing is the most primitive of human passions and the most optimistic
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Socialist writers are made of sterner stuff than those who only let their characters steeplechase through trouble in order to comeout first in the happy ending of moral uplift.
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You want to be free and break new ground, speak your mind, fear no man, have the neighbours acknowledge that you're a good man and at the same time you want to be a success, make money, join the country club, get the votes and kick the other man in the teeth and off the ladder.
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About myself - no. I'm unimportant, an observer, a wandering animal.
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A woman is a hunter without a forest.
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Money goes where money is, money yearns where money is.
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No rich man is a patriot, no rich man is a friend. They have all only got one fatherland the Ritz-Carlton and one friend the mistress they're promising to divorce their wives for.
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Los Angeles is a Yukon for crime-story writers.
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The great white city of brotherhood, Washington.
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All new money is made through the shifting of social classes and the dispossession of old classes.
Christina Stead
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Weak, tea-drinking, effeminate, ineffectual--masters of India, robbers of South Africa, bedevillers of all Europe.
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If all the rich people in the world divided up their money among themselves, there wouldn't be enough to go around.
Christina Stead
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The more we know, the better our intuitions.
Christina Stead
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Anyone would think a thin stick like me, weak and miserable, would go down with everything: do you think I get more than my old cough every winter? I bet I live till ninety, with all my aches and pains. To think that's fifty more years of the Great-I-Am.
Christina Stead
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A mother! What are we worth really? They all grow up whether you look after them or not. That poor miserable brat of his is growing up, and I certainly licked the hide off her and she's seen marriage at its worst, and now she's dreaming about 'supermen' and 'great men'. What is the good of doing anything for them?
Christina Stead
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A single girl must lead a double life don't you think?
Christina Stead
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I do not want to go to heaven I want my children, forever children, and other children, stalwart adults, and a good happy wife, that is all I ask, but not paradise earth is good enough for me: it is because I believe earth is heaven, Naden, that I can overcome all my troubles and face down my enemies.
Christina Stead
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Loneliness is a terrible blindness.
Christina Stead