“It has never worked—it never will. I don’t know what you want to hang on to me for. You should have let me go at the beginning. Why did you beg me to marry you at Frederick that day? I… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
“It is splendid—to be—loved! If we only—can—live up—to the thoughts—of us—by them—that love us!” — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
“I’m afraid to write to your father: he criticizes my spelling,” sneered Henny. “And it appears I know nothing about geography. Hang his stuck-up… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
“you do not know what she did not only to me but to the little children. She has tortured them, turned them against me,… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
To me, all the juice of a book is in an unpublished manuscript, and the published book is like a dead tree - just… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
“Hair under the arms, for example, he said, should never be removed, for nature had put it there, and evidently it had some use.… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
About myself - no. I'm unimportant, an observer, a wandering animal. — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
“A month before our marriage, I knew it would be a well-nigh hopeless union, yet so great is a young man’s idea of what… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
“For a moment, after years of scamping, she felt the dread power of wifehood; they were locked in each other’s grasp till the end—the… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
Socialist writers are made of sterner stuff than those who only let their characters steeplechase through trouble in order to comeout first in the… — Christina Stead Copy Share Image
