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There is no doubt that running away on a fresh, blue morning can be exhilarating.

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
Fresh
Adventure
Blue
Doubt
Morning
Running
Away
Exhilarating

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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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When you are a child you are yourself and you know and see everything prophetically. And then suddenly something happens and you stop being yourself you become what others force you to be. You lose your wisdom and your soul.
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She haunted him, as an ungenerous action haunts one.
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Cold - cold as truth, cold as life. No, nothing can be as cold as life.
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I found when I was a child that if I put the hurt into words, it would go.
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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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I am the only real truth I know.
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Quite like old times,' the room says.
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Only the magic and the dream are true — all the rest's a lie.
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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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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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The feeling of Sunday is the same everywhere, heavy, melancholy, standing still.
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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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It was like letting go and falling back into water and seeing yourself grinning up through the water, your face like a mask, and seeing the bubbles coming up as if you were trying to speak from under the water. And how do you know what it's like to try to speak from under water when you're drowned?
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I have arranged my little life.
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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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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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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 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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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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