We arrived in Manderly in early May… when the blood-red rhododendrons were in bloom.
~Page Sixty-One
The illusion went with it, and the lights in the house were extinguished. I looked upon a desolate shell, soulless at last, unhaunted, with no whisper of the past within it’s staring walls.
~Page Three
…and the performance, never varying, the laying of the tea, the silver tray, the kettle, the snowy white cloth.
~Page Eight
When I remember these things I turn with relief to the prospect of our balcony. No shadows steal upon this heard glare, the stony vineyards shimmer in the air, and the bougainvillea is white with dust.
~Page Nine
Rebecca (c) Daphne Du Maurier
 Attingere · Wed May 02, 2007 @ 01:54am · 0 Comments |
