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She haunted him, as an ungenerous action haunts one.

Jean Rhys

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Jean Rhys
Age: 88 †
Born: 1890
Born: August 24
Died: 1979
Died: May 14
Novelist
Writer
Ella Gwendolen Rees Williams
Ella Rees Williams
Haunted
Action
Ungenerous
Haunts

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You can pretend for a long time, but one day it all falls away and you are alone. We are alone in the most beautiful place in the world.
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But they never last, the golden days. And it can be sad, the sun in the afternoon, can't it? Yes, it can be sad, the afternoon sun, sad and frightening.
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And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?
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It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?
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What you take to be hyprocrisy is sometimes a certain caution, sometimes genuine, though ponderous, childish, sometimes a mixture of both.
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I must write. If I stop writing my life will have been an abject failure. It is that already to other people. But it could be an abject failure to myself. I will not have earned death.
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Your red dress,’ she said, and laughed. But I looked at the dress on the floor and it was as if the fire had spread across the room. It was beautiful and it reminded me of something I must do. I will remember I thought. I will remember quite soon now.
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Even the one moment that you thought was your eternity fades out and is forgotten and dies.
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There are always two deaths, the real one and the one people know about.
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If I was bound for hell, let it be hell. No more false heaven. No more damned magic.
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Soon he'll come in again and kiss me, but differently. He'll be different and so I'll be different. It'll be different. I thought, 'It'll be different, different. It must be different.
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before I could read, almost a baby, I imagined that God, this strange thing or person I heard about, was a book.
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She had left me thirsty and all my life would be thirst and longing for what I had lost before I found it.
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After all this, what happened? What happened was that, as soon as I had the slightest chance of a place to hide in, I crept into it and hid. Well, sometimes it's a fine day isn't it? Sometimes the skies are blue. Sometimes the air is light, easy to breathe. And there is always tomorrow.
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The feeling of Sunday is the same everywhere, heavy, melancholy, standing still.
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I have arranged my little life.
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And then the days came when I was alone.
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I want more of this feeling - fire and wings.
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One realized all sorts of things. The value of an illusion, for instance, and that the shadow can be more important than the substance. All sorts of things.
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He had discovered that people who allow themselves to be blown about by the winds of emotion and impulse are always unhappy people.
Jean Rhys