b18eeef
|
It's funny when you feel as if you don't want anything more in your life except to sleep, or else to lie without moving. That's when you can hear time sliding past you, like water running.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
52054f4
|
If she says goodbye perhaps adieu. Adieu - like those old time songs she sang. Always adieu (and all songs say it). If she too says it, or weeps, I'll take her in my arms, my lunatic. She's mad but mine, mine. What will I care for gods or devils or for Fate itself. If she smiles or weeps or both. For me.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
be470fe
|
She'll have no lover, for I don't want her and she'll see no other.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
192496f
|
You want to know what I'm afraid of? All right, I'll tell you. I'm afraid of men - yes, I'm very much afraid of men. And I'm even more afraid of women. And I'm very much afraid of the whole bloody human race. Afraid of them? Of course I'm afraid of them. Who wouldn't be afraid of a pack of damned hyenas? [...] And when I say afraid - that's just a word I use. What I really mean is that I hate them. I hate their voices, I hate their eyes, I ..
|
|
human-race
suicide
men
hate
women
humanity
fear
guts
cruelty
horrible
idiotic
hyenas
idiocy
cruel
horror
|
Jean Rhys |
a002d9b
|
Every word I say has chains round its ankles; every thought I think is weighted with heavy weights. Since I was born, hasn't every word I've said, every thought I've thought, everything I've done, been tied up, weighted, chained? And mind you, I know that with all this I don't succeed. Or I succeed in flashes only too damned well. ...But think how hard I try and how seldom I dare. Think - and have a bit of pity. That is, if you ever think, ..
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
43e6677
|
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?
|
|
heartbreak
|
Jean Rhys |
e2a19fd
|
It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
7eaebcd
|
I thought if I told no one it might not be true.
|
|
true
secret
truth
tell
wide-sargasso-sea
|
Jean Rhys |
ee41cb4
|
I have tried," I said, "but he does not believe me. It is too late for that now" (it is always too late for truth, I thought)."
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
1a64182
|
Quite like old times,' the room says.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
c1c1c75
|
The last time you were happy about nothing; the first time you were afraid about nothing. Which came first?
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
82396cf
|
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.
|
|
lover
worship
love
mistress
goddess
liar
|
Jean Rhys |
7cbfdea
|
A room? A nice room? A beautiful room? A beautiful room with bath? Swing high, swing low, swing to and fro...This happened and that happened... And then the days came and I was alone.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
34d3b03
|
If all good, respectable people had one face, I'd spit in it.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
2d27870
|
They think in terms of a sentimental ballad. And that's what terrifies you about them. It isn't their cruelty, it isn't even their shrewdness - it's their extraordinary naivete. Everything in their whole bloody world is a cliche. Everything is born out of a cliche, rests on a cliche, survives by a cliche. And they believe in the cliches - there's no hope
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
d3b524d
|
I am empty of everything. I am empty of everything but the thin, frail ghosts in my room.
|
|
ghosts
|
Jean Rhys |
93f272a
|
What I see is nothing - I want what it hides - that is not nothing.
|
|
seeing
secrets
|
Jean Rhys |
8bfba30
|
Would you like a whiskey?' I say. 'I've got some.' (That's original. I bet nobody's ever thought of that way of bridging the gap before.)
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
409f275
|
I have been here five days. I have decided on a place to eat in at midday, a place to eat in at night, a place to have my drink in after dinner. I have arranged my little life.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
44da127
|
He had discovered that people who allow themselves to be blown about by the winds of emotion and impulse are always unhappy people.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
5305286
|
Now at last I know why I was brought here and what I have to do.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
8f62eff
|
Why did you make me want to live? Why did you do that to me?' 'Because I wished it. Isn't that enough?' 'Yes, it is enough. But if one day you didn't wish it. What should I do then? Suppose you took this happiness away when I wasn't looking ...' 'And lose my own? Who'd be so foolish?' 'I am not used to happiness,' she said. 'It makes me afraid.' 'Never be afraid. Or if you are tell no one.' 'I understand. But trying does not help me.' 'What..
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
750af5b
|
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.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
e352656
|
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.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
5b3b8f8
|
It's funny, he said, have you ever thought that a girl's clothes cost more than the girl inside them?
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
5237229
|
The house was burning, the yellow-red sky was like the sunset...Nothing would be left, the golden ferns and the silver ferns, the orchids, the ginger lilies and the roses...When they had finished, there would be nothing left but blackened walls and the mounting stone. That was always left. That could not be stolen or burned.
|
|
leaving
|
Jean Rhys |
eaf38d3
|
I'm no use to anybody,' I say. 'I'm a cerebrale, can't you see that?' Thinking how funny a book would be, called 'Just a Cerebrale or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, of course, to be accepted as authentic, to carry any conviction, it would have to be written by a man. What a pity, what a pity!
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
ee25c79
|
The musty smell, the bugs, the lonliness, this room, which is part of the street outside-this is all I want from life.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
fda2bfd
|
Something in her brain that still remained calm told her that she was doing a very foolish thing indeed.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
dc6cd5e
|
I took the red dress down and put it against myself. 'Does it make me look intemperate and unchaste?' I said.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
09261cf
|
Satin skin, silk hair, velvet eyes, sawdust heart - all complete.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
8cf4713
|
Very soon she'll join all the others who know the secret and will not tell it. Or cannot. Or try and fail because they do not know enough. They can be recognized. White faces, dazed eyes, aimless gestures, high-pitched laughter. The way they walk and talk and scream or try to kill (themselves or you) if you laugh back at them. Yes, they've got to be watched. For the time comes when they try to kill, then disappear. But others are waiting to..
|
|
lies
memories
|
Jean Rhys |
f70e64a
|
I've had enough of these streets that sweat a cold, yellow slime, of hostile people, of crying myself to sleep every night. I've had enough of thinking, enough of remembering.
|
|
sleep
people
hostile
slime
streets
sweat
enough
cry
crying
thinking
remembering
|
Jean Rhys |
5308fd4
|
morbidly, attracted him to strangeness, to recklessnesss, even unhappiness.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
0aaa06c
|
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 |
fbb9c69
|
But why do you want to talk to me?' He is going to say: 'Because you look so kind,' or 'Because you look so beautiful and kind,' or, subtly, 'Because you look as if you'll understand....' He says: 'Because I think you won't betray me.' I had meant to get this mean to talk to me and tell me all about it, and then be so devastatingly English that perhaps I should manage to hurt him a little in return for all the many times I've been hurt....
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
e5eac4b
|
Quite alone. No voice, no touch, no hand....How long must I lie here? For ever? No, only for a couple of hundred years this time, miss....
|
|
solitude
|
Jean Rhys |
43d7a12
|
When I was out on the battlements it was cool and I could hardly hear them. I sat there quietly. I don't know how long I sat. Then I turned round and saw the sky. It was red and all my life was in it.
|
|
red
|
Jean Rhys |
e95f496
|
It was as if a curtain had fallen, hiding everything I had ever known. It was almost like being born again. The colours were different, the smells different, the feeling things gave you right down inside yourself was different. Not just the difference between heat, cold; light, darkness; purple, grey. But a difference in the way I was frightened and the way I was happy.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
b3b92c8
|
The rumble of the life outside was like the sound of the sea which was rising gradually around her.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
5d545fd
|
You are walking along a road peacefully. You trip. You fall into blackness. That's the past - or perhaps the future. And you know that there is no past, no future, there is only this blackness, changing faintly, slowly, but always the same.
|
|
future
past
|
Jean Rhys |
9ae0dac
|
She spent the foggy day in endless, aimless walking, for it seemed to her that if she moved quickly enough she would escape the fear that hunted her. It was a vague and shadowy fear of something cruel and stupid that had caught her and would never let her go. She had always known that it was there - hidden under the more of less pleasant surface of things. Always. Ever since she was a child. You could argue about hunger or cold or lonelines..
|
|
loneliness
fear
hunger
walking
terror
|
Jean Rhys |
a965bd1
|
Unhappily children do hurt flies
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |
08a4d29
|
It was a beautiful place - wild, untouched, above all untouched, with an alien, disturbing, secret loveliness. And it kept its secret. I'd fins myself thinking, 'What I see is nothing - I want what it - that is not nothing'.
|
|
|
Jean Rhys |