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She’ll have no lover, for I don’t want her and she’ll see no other.

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
Lover
Lovers

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There is no doubt that running away on a fresh, blue morning can be exhilarating.
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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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Life if curious when reduced to its essentials
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I have arranged my little life.
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She haunted him, as an ungenerous action haunts one.
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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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Next week, or next month, or next year I will kill myself. But I might as well last out my month's rent, which has been paid up.
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The feeling of Sunday is the same everywhere, heavy, melancholy, standing still.
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We can't all be happy, we can't all be rich, we can't all be lucky - and it would be so much less fun if we were... There must be the dark background to show up the bright colours.
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I am the only real truth I know.
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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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And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?
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Not that she objected to solitude. Quite the contrary. She had books, thank Heaven, quantities of books. All sorts of books.
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The woman had a humble, cringing manner. Of course, she had discovered that, having neither money nor virtue, she had better be humble if she knew what was good for her.
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Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.
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that expression you get in your eyes when you are very tired and everything is like a dream and you are starting to know what things are like underneath what people say they are.
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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.
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Quite like old times,' the room says.
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When he talked his eyes went away from mine and then he forced himself to look straight at me and he began to explain and I knew that he felt very strange with me and that he hated me, and it was funny sitting there and talking like that, knowing he hated me.
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I sit at my window and the words fly past me like birds — with God's help I catch some.
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