“That corner in the drive, too, where the trees encroach upon. . . the gravel, is not a place in which to pause, not after the sun has set. When the leaves rustle, they sound very much like the stealthy… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share Image
When the leaves rustle, they sound very much like the stealthy movement of a woman in evening dress, and when they shiver suddenly, and fall, and scatter away along the ground, they might be the patter of a woman’s hurrying… — 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
“You understand now... how simple life becomes when things like mirrors are forgotten.” — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share
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
“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
“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
“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
“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
“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
“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
“You thought I was mad. Perhaps I was. Perhaps I am. It doesn't make for sanity, does it, living with the devil.” — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share
“many impressions to seize and hold, familiar loved façades, balconies, windows, water lapping the cellar steps of decaying palaces, the little red house where… — Daphne du Maurier Copy Share
