8 Quotes by Jock Serong

One such man, an islander named Drew, strode into a Launceston rooming house looking—and here Srinivas suddenly became awkward—for the services of a good woman. I nearly laughed: from all I’d heard, no one would seek a good woman in Launceston.

The early morning had a faint drizzle in it. Tiny specks, a day that meant itself to be fine but had somehow leaked.

As we neared, the great mass of Wilson’s Promontory stretched southward out of the coast on our right, and the island drew threads of cloud from the low sky and teased them into mirages: the island was burning, the island was cut from coal or obsidian; the island was not there at all.

The outfield's billiard green: no bare patches, no flowers. The things that are painted white-the sightscreen, the pickets around the boundary-are so white it hurts. The hoses and the boundary line are white. The entire playing surface is perfectly flat and level. And in the middle of the ground, across that wide carpet of perfect grass, the holy of holies.A turf wicket.

Sydney is not an end, nor an answer.

Sometimes I’m amazed by my ability to open my mouth and just hear my own unedited thoughts fall out.

Rather than taking this as an indication that perceptive people can see my faults, I take it as a warning to avoid perceptive people at all costs.

One such man, an islander named Drew, strode into a Launceston rooming house looking – and here Srinivas suddenly became awkward – for the services of a good woman. I nearly laughed: from all I’d heard, no one would seek a good woman in Launceston.