The City is a machine miraculously organised for extracting gold from the seas, airs, clouds, from barren lands, holds of ships, mines, plantations, cottage hearth-stones, trees and rocks; and he, wretchedly waiting in the exterior halls, could not even get his finger on one tiny, tiny lever.
Christina SteadI never wanted to marry anyone like my father; I always preferred those more shoddy.
Christina SteadSocialist writers are made of sterner stuff than those who only let their characters steeplechase through trouble in order to comeout first in the happy ending of moral uplift.
Christina SteadYe want to tell the plain truth all your life, woman, and speak straight; otherwise ye get to seeing double.
Christina Stead