“Any artist is insulted by the suggestion that art is merely a matter of recording reality, and knows that it is impossible to explain how imagination can transform not only events and people, but the artist as well, into quite… — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
Time - whether you are burning it up or falling in love or spreading it out thin in a dentist's waiting room - is a commodity that cannot be weighed out and measured by clocks. — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
“Except for those people over there with the wagonette we might be the only living creatures in the whole world,’ said Edith, airily dismissing… — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
“Any artist is insulted by the suggestion that art is merely a matter of recording reality, and knows that it is impossible to explain… — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
“Insulated from natural contacts with earth, air and sunlight, by corsets pressing on the solar plexus, by voluminous petticoats, cotton stockings and kid boots,… — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
Everything, if you could only see it clearly enough, like this, is beautiful and complete. Everything has its own perfection. — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
Although we are necessarily concerned, in a chronicle of events, with physical action by the light of day, history suggests that the human spirit… — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
“Sometimes just to look at Miranda’s calm oval face and straight corn-yellow hair gave her a sharp little stab of pleasure.” — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
“Marion Quade, the only member of the class to take Pythagoras in her stride, was a favourite pupil, in the sense that a savage… — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
Time - whether you are burning it up or falling in love or spreading it out thin in a dentist's waiting room - is… — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
“Why is it, Miranda,’ she whispered, ‘that such a sweet pretty creature is a schoolteacher – of all dreary things in the world . . .?” — Joan Lindsay Copy Share Image
