Daphne du Maurier
Daphne du Maurier
Dame Daphne du Maurier, Lady Browning DBEwas an English author and playwright...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth13 May 1907
wall yesterday house
This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. To-day we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the same again.
mind demand sat
I had build up false pictures in my mind and sat before them. I had never had the courage to demand the truth.
problem
The point is, life has to be endured, and lived. But how to live it is the problem.
eye looks
Will you look into my eyes and tell me that you love me now?
dog eye doors
Why did dogs make one want to cry? There was something so quiet and hopeless about their sympathy. Jasper, knowing something was wrong, as dogs always do. Trunks being packed. Cars being brought to the door. Dogs standing with drooping tails, dejected eyes. Wandering back to their baskets in the hall when the sound of the car dies away.
horse pride care
He stole horses' you'll say to yourself, 'and he didn't care for women; and but for my pride I'd have been with him now.
genius talent new-friends
I have no talent for making new friends, but oh such genius for fidelity to old ones.
wall pain broken
The peace of Manderley. The quietude and the grace. Whoever lived within its walls, whatever trouble there was and strife, however much uneasiness and pain, no matter what tears were shed, what sorrows borne, the peace of Manderley could not be broken or the loveliness destroyed.
thinking-of-you knowing waiting
I would have gone too but I wanted to come straight back to you.I kept thinking of you, waiting here, all by yourself, not knowing what was going to happen.
children arms
I held out my arms to him and he came to me like a child.
book hero mean
What about the hero of The House on the Strand? What did it mean when he dropped the telephone at the end of the book? I don't really know, but I rather think he was going to be paralysed for life. Don't you?
struggle past thank-god
We can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest, struggling at length to blind unreasoning panic - now mercifully stilled, thank God - might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion as it had before.
writing scary firsts
When one is writing a novel in the first person, one must be that person.
men hands sick
If there’s one thing that makes a man sick, it’s to have his ale poured out of an ugly hand.