129 Quotes by Beatriz Williams

Don’t smoke, Aunt Julie,” I said. “Mother will smell it when she comes back in.” “I don’t happen to give a damn.

Telling lies is a fault in a boy, an art in a lover, an accomplishment in a bachelor, and second-nature in a married man. – HELEN ROWLAND.

You know something? The oddest picture came into my mind just then. I saw Dadums in the chair in the hospital waiting room, cradling my mother’s sleeping head on his lap, raising his finger to his lips so no one would disturb her. And. I heard Violet’s voice in my ears, as kind and clean as water: He loved me as much as it was possible for him to love another person. I thought, out of the blue, maybe this isn’t so hard after all. Maybe.

Besides, it seems to me, since my pleasure is more or less a foregone conclusion, the main object of the exercise ought to be your pleasure. A rather elusive creature, I’ve heard. Fascinating sort of quarry.′ ‘Wait a minute. You’re hunting down my orgasms?’ His laughter burst out like a rifle salute. ‘Kate. You damned magnificent creature.’ He rolled onto his back, bringing me with him. ‘Yes, my darling. That’s exactly what I’d like to do, on and on until the end of my life.

It’s better that way, don’t you think? You’re prepared to like anything when you’re comfortable sauced.

I find a woman with brains enormously attractive and not threatening in the least. A pretty face is nice, too, but having somebody to converse with and share thoughts for thirty or forty years is very appealing to me.

Didn’t It belong to her just a little bit, not in a material way but in the way a house always belonged to all those who have lived and loved and suffered in it? As if it had kept behind a small part of your soul.

I didn’t reply I didn’t think I could. I felt sick, perspiring, the way you do when you stand by yourself on the brink of some vertiginous cliff, and the whole world undulates around you, and you’re overcome by the tantalizing power of suicide. The death that lies within your immediate grasp. A single, easy step.

Nobody ever says what they really mean. There is this vast fabric of tender little lies, and all the important things are unspoken. Boiling there underneath. We only bother telling the truth when it’s too small to count.