I had come at last and my heart was beating again strongly to a heart that could not know despair because it forgot itself in the duty of its love.
Joyce CaryFor the essential thing about the work of art is that it is work, and very hard work too.
Joyce CaryA foul-mouthed oaf, a drunken laborer lying in a drain, a beaten wife with blackened eyes and torn clothes, cannot be made romantic to a child who sees how other children suffer from bad-tempered parents, from drunken fathers to termagant mothers.
Joyce Cary