He knew by heart every last minute crack on its surface. He had made maps of the ceiling and gone exploring on them; rivers, islands, and continents. He had made guessing games of it and discovered hidden objects; faces, birds, and fishes. He made mathematical calculations of it and rediscovered his childhood; theorems, angles, and triangles. There was practically nothing else he could do but look at it. He hated the sight of it.
Josephine TeyAfter three days without one, the desire to read a newspaper vanished. And really, one was happier without.
Josephine TeyMost people's first books are their best anyways. It's the one they wanted most to write.
Josephine TeyA thousand people drowned in floods in China are news: a solitary child drowned in a pond is tragedy.
Josephine TeyIt's an odd thing but when you tell someone the true facts of a mythical tale they are indignant not with the teller but with you. They don't want to have their ideas upset. It rouses some vague uneasiness in them, I think, and they resent it. So they reject it and refuse to think about it. If they were merely indifferent it would be natural and understandable. But it is much stronger than that, much more positive. They are annoyed. Very odd, isn't it.
Josephine TeyLetterwriting is the natural outlet of the "odds." The busy-bodies, the idle, the perverted, the cranks, the feel-it-my-duties ... Also the plain depraved. They all write letters. It's their safe outlet, you see. They can be as interfering, as long-winded, as obscene, as pompous, as one-idea'd, as they like on paper, and no one can kick them for it. So they write. My God, how they write!
Josephine TeyIt was pleasant to talk shop again; to use that elliptical, allusive speech that one uses only with another of one's trade.
Josephine TeyI expect this is what death is like when you meet it. Sort of wildly unfair but inevitable.
Josephine TeyYou can't have a tin can tied to your tail and go through life pretending it isn't there.
Josephine TeyThat was the way with grief: it left you alone for months together until you thought that you were cured, and then without warning it blotted out the sunlight.
Josephine TeyRiches ... don't consist in having things, but in not having to do something you don't want to do. ... Riches is being able to thumb your nose.
Josephine TeyThe trouble with you, dear, is that you think an angel of the Lord as a creature with wings, whereas he is probably a scruffy little man with a bowler hat.
Josephine TeyIt is the utterly destructive quality. When you say vanity, you are thinking of the kind that admires itself in mirrors and buys things to deck itself out in. But that is merely personal conceit. Real vanity is something quite different. A matter not of person but of personality. Vanity says, "I must have this because I am me." It is a frightening thing because it is incurable.
Josephine TeyThe truth of anything at all doesn't lie in someone's account of it. It lies in all the small facts of the time. An advertisement in a paper, the sale of a house, the price of a ring.
Josephine TeyThe worst of pushing horrible things down into one's subconscious is that when they pop up again they are as fresh as if they had been in a refrigerator. You haven't allowed time to get at them to-to mould them over a little.
Josephine Tey