He stole horses' you'll say to yourself, 'and he didn't care for women; and but for my pride I'd have been with him now.

A bad workman blames his tools.

I have no talent for making new friends, but oh such genius for fidelity to old ones.

The peace of Manderley. The quietude and the grace. Whoever lived within its walls, whatever trouble there was and strife, however much uneasiness and pain, no matter what tears were shed, what sorrows borne, the peace of Manderley could not be broken or the loveliness destroyed.

Life was a series of greetings and farewells, one was always saying good-bye to something, to someone.

...the routine of life goes on, whatever happens, we do the same things, go through the little performance of eating, sleeping, washing. No crisis can break through the crust of habit.

We're not meant for happiness, you and I.