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As it was in the beginning, ... is now, and ever shall be, world without end.

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
Beginning
Shall
Ends
Ever
Without
World

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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 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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I am the only real truth I know.
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Cold - cold as truth, cold as life. No, nothing can be as cold as life.
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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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The musty smell, the bugs, the lonliness, this room, which is part of the street outside-this is all I want from life.
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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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She’ll have no lover, for I don’t want her and she’ll see no other.
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Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.
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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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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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I have arranged my little life.
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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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Of course she had some pathetic illusions about herself or she would not be able to go on living.
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Love was a terrible thing. You poisoned it and stabbed at it and knocked it down into the mud - well down - and it got up and staggered on, bleeding and muddy and awful. Like - like Rasputin.
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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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There are always two deaths, the real one and the one people know about.
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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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Life if curious when reduced to its essentials
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And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?
Jean Rhys