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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

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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
Read
Persons
Person
Book
Imagined
Thing
Baby
Strange
Heard
Almost

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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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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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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 didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know.
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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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If I was bound for hell, let it be hell. No more false heaven. No more damned magic.
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I want more of this feeling - fire and wings.
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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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Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.
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The rumble of the life outside was like the sound of the sea which was rising gradually around her.
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I am the only real truth I know.
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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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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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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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She’ll have no lover, for I don’t want her and she’ll see no other.
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Life if curious when reduced to its essentials
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