“There is nothing so difficult to remember as sexual love. How often, where, and what happened? It all goes, it has all gone, leaving no impression, mattering so much less than we like to think. (…) What we have had… — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
As for death one gets used to it, even if it's only other people's death you get used to. — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now… — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
Let this serve as an axiom to every lover: A woman who refuses lunch refuses everything. — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
“She changed her position, contemplated a row od apple shrubs that she had put in last autumn at the bottom of the terrace, and… — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
Why do birds sing in the morning? It's the triumphant shout: 'We got through another night!' — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
In marriage there are no manners to keep up, and beneath the wildest accusations no real criticism. Each is familiar with that ancient child… — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
“He's old now. He goes about gathering up the women who loved him and getting a kick out of their consternation and vague distress.… — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
“They went together to the pond. The frogs, frozen by the movement, sat still. Fourteen golden eyes like nuggets gleamed unwinking from the margin.… — Enid Bagnold Copy Share Image
