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I found when I was a child that if I put the hurt into words, it would go.

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
Healing
Hurt
Child
Words
Found
Children
Would

More quotes by Jean Rhys

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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 know all about myself now, I know. You've told me so often. You haven't left me one rag of illusion to clothe myself in.
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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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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've been so ridiculous all my life that a little bit more or a little bit less hardly matters now.
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Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.
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Only the magic and the dream are true — all the rest's a lie.
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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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She’ll have no lover, for I don’t want her and she’ll see no other.
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There is no doubt that running away on a fresh, blue morning can be exhilarating.
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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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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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Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful. I want one thing and one thing only - to be left alone.
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And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?
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Cold - cold as truth, cold as life. No, nothing can be as cold as life.
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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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I sit at my window and the words fly past me like birds — with God's help I catch some.
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I am the only real truth I know.
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And then the days came when I was alone.
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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.
Jean Rhys