“Fetch it down an’ I’ll mix ye a Sampson.” It had once been Prudie’s favorite drink: brandy and cider and sugar. She stared at Jud as if he were the Devil tempting her to sell her soul.” — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“Yet, although he could not quite work this out in simple terms in his own mind, the very savour of life, he thought, was… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
When you bring an idealised relationship down to the level of an ordinary one it isn't necessarily the ordinary one that suffers'. — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“It is hopeless for older people to tell younger ones – particularly their own children – that they have been through the same thing.… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
Give me the comma of imperfect striving, thus to find zest in the immediate living. Ever the reaching but never the gaining, ever the… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“Tedn’t right. Tedn’t tidy. Tedn’t fair. Tedn’t clean. Tedn’t good enough.” — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“he was deeply annoyed at having to leave the fair before he was drunk, a thing that had never happened to him since he… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“Perhaps,” said Demelza, trembling all over. “Perhaps I’d ought to have asked for an introduction seeing it’s so long since we met.” “I don’t… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“Give me some surety if you want to continue. It is not late yet.” Ross offered his gold watch, which had belonged to his… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“Not for the first time he was conscious of emotional lights and shades in his wife that could not be categorized, could not be… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“Sir Hugh squeezed her arm so often that Demelza began to wonder if the show was all a pretext for being with her in… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“All the conflicting feeling inside her suddenly found an outlet. The mixed motives for asking him in—the liking, the affection, the feminine curiosity, the… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
“It’s gone!” he shouted. “The brandy!” said Prudie, lurching to her feet. “’Ere, who’s stolen it? ’Twas there an hour gone—” “Not all three… — Winston Graham Copy Share Image
