Mary Balogh
Mary Balogh
Mary Baloghis a Welsh-Canadian historical romance novelist...
NationalityWelsh
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth24 March 1944
philosophical happy-life thinking
Black is the absence of all color. White is the presence of all colors. I suppose life must be one or the other. On the whole, though, I think I would prefer color to its absence. But then black does add depth and texture to color. Perhaps certain shades of gray are necessary to a complete palette. Even unrelieved black. Ah, a deep philosophical question. Is black necessary to life, even a happy life? Could we ever be happy if we did not at least occasionally experience misery?
worthy make-sense
Love did not have to make sense. It did not have to be worthy. It did not have to be earned. It did not have to woo. It just simply was.
lonely loneliness faces
The worst thing about loneliness is that it brings one face to face with oneself.
lifetime
I have read somewhere that we often spend a lifetime searching for what we already have.
grateful adventure forever
I have always been a spectator of life, you know, never a participant. Never. But now I am. Today I am, and I an awed and deliriously happy. This is the adventure I asked for, the adventure I am having I will be forever grateful to you.
madness pleasure worst
If you have always suspected your sister of an inclination to madness, it will be my pleasure to confirm your worst fears.
dream imagination soul
Stop being so fruitlessly busy and dream. Use your imagination. Reach out into the unknown and dream of how you can enlarge your experience and improve your mind and your soul and your world.
sky blue heaven
He gazed up at the blue sky and knew that heaven—at least in this life—was neither a time nor a place to be grasped and made into a possession. It came in fleeting moments and then went away again to leave one nostalgic and yearning and on the verge of tears. Very much on the verge of tears. And very frightened.
devil reason-why reason
There had to be a reason why they were not going to marry. They had both been so adamant about it. What the devil was the reason?
sometimes enough
Sometimes now was enough. Sometimes it was everything.
flower heart rose
Everyone was a rose but even more complex than a mere flower. Everyone was made up of infinitely layered petals. And everyone had something indescribably precious at the heart of their being. No one was shallow. Not really.
effort tears cry
Tears never were worth the effort of crying them.
dream want needs
But if one had everything one could ever need or want, what was left to dream of?
dream disappointment successful
Did she ever feel nostalgia for any of her girlhood dreams? But life was made up of a succession of dreams, some few to be realized, most to be set aside as time went on, one or two to persist for a lifetime. It was knowing when to abandon a dream, perhaps, that mattered and distinguished the successful people in life from the sad, embittered persons who never moved on from the first of life's great disappointments. Or from the airy dreamers who never really lived life at all.