There was I, devouring books and yet allowing a man who had never read a book to walk me home for a bit of harmless fumbling on the front steps.
Edna O'Brienshadows of love, inebriations of love, foretastes of love, trickles of love, but never yet the one true love.
Edna O'BrienThere was always a real reason for everything - why spoons tarnished, and jam furred, and people declined into God, or drink, or card games.
Edna O'Brien