Margaret Mitchell
Margaret Mitchell
Margaret Munnerlyn Mitchellwas an American author and journalist. One novel by Mitchell was published during her lifetime, the American Civil War-era novel, Gone with the Wind, for which she won the National Book Award for Most Distinguished Novel of 1936 and the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1937. In more recent years, a collection of Mitchell's girlhood writings and a novella she wrote as a teenager, Lost Laysen, have been published. A collection of articles written by Mitchell for The...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth8 November 1900
CityAtlanta, GA
CountryUnited States of America
She was darkness and he was darkness and there had never been anything before this time, only darkness and his lips upon her. She tried to speak and his mouth was over hers again. Suddenly she had a wild thrill such as she had never known; joy, fear, madness, excitement, surrender to arms that were too strong, lips too bruising, fate that moved too fast.
All she wanted was a breathing space in which to hurt.
But she knew that no matter what beauty lay behind, it must remain there. No one could go forward with a load of aching memories.
To Scarlett, there was something breath-taking about Ellen O'Hara, a miracle that lived in the house with her and awed her and charmed and soothed her.
You're like the thief who isn't the least bit sorry he stole, but is terribly, terribly sorry he's going to jail. - Rhett Butler
The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her ... her eyes were her own.
Anyone as selfish and determined as you are is never helpless.
I won't need you to rescue meM. I can take care of myself, thank you. - Scarlett O'Hara.
God help the man who ever really loves you.
[Yankees] are pretty much like southerners except with worse manners, of course, and terrible accents.
You are a child if you thought I didn’t know, for all your smothering yourself under that hot lap robe. Of course, I knew. Why else do you think I’ve been—” He stopped suddenly and a silence fell between them. He picked up the reins and clucked to the horse.
So you’ll have to wait for approval from your grandchildren.” “I wonder what our grandchildren will be like!” “Are you suggesting by that ‘our’ that you and I will have mutual grandchildren? Fie, Mrs. Kennedy!
Yes, I want money more than anything else in the world.” “Then you’ve made the only choice. But there’s a penalty attached, as there is to most things you want. It’s loneliness.
So I have. Let me hold the baby, Scarlett. Oh, I know how to hold babies. I have many strange accomplishments. Well, he certainly looks like Frank. All except the whiskers, but give him time.” “I hope not. It’s a girl.