My own mask stayed just where it ought. I’ve had lots of practice.

The beach has a language of its own, with its undulating ribbons of silt, the imponderable hieroglyphs of bird tracks. The receding waves catch on innumerable holes in the sand. Bubbles form and fade. A new language, with a new alphabet.

Actually, it would be assumed that the young lady had no such impulses at all, but I’ll tell you something: Chocolate melts on my tongue too.

It's one thing to keep secrets. It's quite another to lie.

Imagine a world without shadows. You cannot touch a shadow, but a world without them is a hard world, and flat.

A girl can have the face of an angel but have a horrid sort of heart.

He scooped up my arm, swung me round. “Let go, Cecil,” I said. “I’ve a strange dislike of being forced.” “But Briony,” he said, “I’m so full of good spirits. I could walk to London, I think!” Why didn’t he?