ANITA BROOKNER
She did not expect art to console her. Why should it? It may be that there is no consolation. But, like most people, she did expect it to take her out of herself, and was constantly surprised when it returned her to herself with no comment. pg.8
Pouring herself another glass, she reflected that time had a different meaning when one experienced it on one's own. pg.20
..., as if in the shadow of such a mother, the child had learnt, too drastically, the lesson that some are born to bask in the attention of others while some are destined for a discreet position in the half-light. pg.39
At such times, standing motionless in her dusky room, or pulling aside the curtain on to the dark and empty garden, she would know an inner desolation that no one must be allowed to suspect. pg.46
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The more she contemplated her life as it was, the more hopeless she found it to be. A sterile rounds of almost unmotivated activities, the evenings long and drawn out with waiting, th3e silent vigils by darkened windows that procee3ded her nights were not enough to sustain a life, however gallant and determined. pg.49
Blanche found it intolerable to have witnesses at her defeats; therefore she gave no sign of being defeated. Or so she hoped. pg.50
It was a diet of hedonism, from which the fibrous content of real life had been removed. pg.77
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She saw that fallen creation, mournful in its righteousness, uncomforted in its desolation, and living in expectation, as she had waited long hours in her drawing-room for the hope that would not return.pg.79
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..., thinking, again mistakenly, that some unworthiness in herself had brought this about, and that if she improved she would be rewarded. What that reward could now be was unclear. pg.88
It occurred to her that she had never been deceived; merely surprised. Eternally surprised by the appetites of others and the lengths to which these appetites would take them. pg.107
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...the ageing soul, not to speak of the ageing body, requires and deserves it resting place. pg.149
She saw too that time misspent in youth is sometimes all the freedom one ever has; that is why the gods are always young. pg. 149
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The more she contemplated her life as it was, the more hopeless she found it to be. A sterile rounds of almost unmotivated activities, the evenings long and drawn out with waiting, th3e silent vigils by darkened windows that procee3ded her nights were not enough to sustain a life, however gallant and determined. pg.49
Blanche found it intolerable to have witnesses at her defeats; therefore she gave no sign of being defeated. Or so she hoped. pg.50
It was a diet of hedonism, from which the fibrous content of real life had been removed. pg.77
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She saw that fallen creation, mournful in its righteousness, uncomforted in its desolation, and living in expectation, as she had waited long hours in her drawing-room for the hope that would not return.pg.79
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..., thinking, again mistakenly, that some unworthiness in herself had brought this about, and that if she improved she would be rewarded. What that reward could now be was unclear. pg.88
It occurred to her that she had never been deceived; merely surprised. Eternally surprised by the appetites of others and the lengths to which these appetites would take them. pg.107
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...the ageing soul, not to speak of the ageing body, requires and deserves it resting place. pg.149
She saw too that time misspent in youth is sometimes all the freedom one ever has; that is why the gods are always young. pg. 149
