“Sometimes I think depression must be like a dance in your head and anything can trigger it, if you know that dance.” — Rachel Joyce Copy Share Image
“IT HAD NEVER been such a beautiful May. Every day the sky shone a peerless blue, untouched by cloud. Already, the gardens were crammed… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
After the two drinks, she felt warm inside, and slightly indistinct at the edges. — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“He walked so surely it was as if all his life he had been waiting to get up from his chair.” — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
He must have driven this way countless times, and yet he had no memory of the scenery. He must have been so caught up… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“He saw the reflection of her face in a compact mirror as she painted on her re lips. She did it with such care,… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“I can't explain why I think I can get there, when all the odds are against me. But I do. Even when a big… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“It wasn’t just 1) the artwork and sleeve notes on the album sleeve. It wasn’t 2) the possibility of a hidden track, or a… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
In writing about Harold and Maureen with their terrible unspoken secret, and all those people that Harold meets as he walks to save a… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“He wished the man would honor the true meaning of words, instead of using them as ammunition.” — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“We are at the centre of our own stories. And sometimes it is hard to believe that we are not at the centre of… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
I find that very appealing: the blurring of the lines between what's funny and what's tragic. And what's ordinary and what's not - the… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
Beginnings could happen more than once or in different ways. You could think you were starting something afresh, when actually what you were doing… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“As time passed and he found his rhythm, he began to feel more certain. England opened up beneath his feet, and the feeling of… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“It surprised him that he was remembering all this. Maybe it was the walking. Maybe you saw even more than the land when you… — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
“There was something about her, something pure and fluid that could not be contained.” — Rachel Joyce Copy Share
