Jem was safe from her, and he would ride away with a song on his lips and a laugh at her expense,… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
What about the hero of The House on the Strand? What did it mean when he dropped the telephone at the end… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
Sometimes it’s a sort of indulgence to think the worst of ourselves. We say, ‘Now I have reached the bottom of the… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
Writing every book is like a purge; at the end of it one is empty ... like a dry shell on the… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
He lacked tenderness; he was rude; and he had more than a streak of cruelty in him; he was a thief and a liar.… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
“You understand now... how simple life becomes when things like mirrors are forgotten.” — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
I could fight with the living but I could not fight the dead. If there was some woman in London that Maxim loved, someone… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
“The only time I got into trouble was when I forged M's signature on the weekly report we had to take home every Friday… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
“They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
“We all of us have our particular devil who ruses us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end.” — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
“There have been men in arid deserts where the sun has so disfigured them that they have become things of horror – parched and… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
“Packing up. The nagging worry of departure. When shutting drawers and flinging wide an hotel wardrobe, or the impersonal shelves of a furnished villa,… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
“And perhaps one day, in after years, someone would wander there and listen to the silence, as she had done, and catch the whisper… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
