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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.
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
Lasts
Rent
Last
Suicidal
Next
Month
Wells
Kill
Might
Paid
Well
Months
Years
Week
Year
More quotes by Jean Rhys
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 I think about it, if I had to choose, I'd rather be happy than write.
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All of a writer that matters is in the book or books. It is idiotic to be curious about the person.
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And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?
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I hadn't bargained for this. I didn't think it would be like this - shabby clothes, worn-out shoes, circles under your eyes, your hair getting straight and lanky, the way people look at you. ... I didn't think it would be like this
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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.
Jean Rhys
Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.
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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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Cold - cold as truth, cold as life. No, nothing can be as cold as life.
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Human beings are struggling, and so they are egoists. But it's wrong to say that they are wholy cruel - it's a deformed view.
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It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?
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I've been so ridiculous all my life that a little bit more or a little bit less hardly matters now.
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She could give herself up to the written word as naturally as a good dancer to music or a fine swimmer to water. The only difficulty was that after finishing the last sentence she was left with a feeling at once hollow and uncomfortably full. Exactly like indigestion.
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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.
Jean Rhys
As it was in the beginning, ... is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Jean Rhys
Life if curious when reduced to its essentials
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Stephan was secretive and a liar, but he was a very gentle and expert lover. She was the petted, cherished child, the desired mistress, the worshipped, perfumed goddess. She was all these things to Stephan - or so he made her believe.
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She haunted him, as an ungenerous action haunts one.
Jean Rhys