81 Quotes by Sonya Hartnett

I am dying: it's a beautiful word. Like the long slow sigh of a cello: dying. But the sound of it is the only beautiful thing about it.

We both knew that what I said was the truth, as well as being a lie. The pure and honest answer was pinging between us, hovering above the weeds.

More than this, I believe that the only lastingly important form of writing is writing for children. It is writing that is carried in the reader's heart for a lifetime; it is writing that speaks to the future.

A small town is nothing but eyes and gaping maw; it pecks at its own like a flock of vicious birds.

A small town has as many eyes as a fly

I looked along the aisle and saw her, and it was as if I saw her for the first time. Everything changed. The ancient featureless interior of me spangled orange, mint, cat-blue. I looked back to the window immediately, my face damp, my breath caught. And worried I would never have the courage to look at her again.

But what she feels is sometimes hard to express...Much of what is best in her is warped on the voyage from within to without.

I imagine my parents would very much relish having an angel for a son. Who, after all, would not?

She was his ever-present shadow. Hers was the face he saw on waking: she was the one who wanted to be with him, the one who watched and waited for him, who felt his absence badly.