“Predictably, the national broadcaster—a viper’s nest of socialists, tree-huggers and ugly, barren females—had seized on the survey, exhuming one of its bleeding-heart ideologues to moan about funding cuts to education.” — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share Image
“All the while, she understood that nothing could save her from the emptiness of the years that still had to be lived. Days passed,… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“It was one of those golden July afternoons stolen from spring, and they sat outside in T-shirts drinking beer.” — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“George noticed her feet again. They were nuggety and rectangular, like a young child’s feet—even the sparkly turquoise nail polish belonged to a child.… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“The past was not always past enough here. It was like living in a house acquired for its clean angles and gleaming appliances, and… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“She had almost reached the cafe before Céleste identified Pippa, imposterish without beret and lampshade dress, her iPod shining through her pocket. At the… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“We believe the explanation we hear last. It's one of the ways in which narrative influences our perception of truth. We crave finality, and… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“people suffer much more from the promises they don’t make than the ones they can’t keep” — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“He had been a shy, affectionate child to whom Céleste fed Milo straight from the tin. Sometimes she tortured him, singing, ‘Dominiquenique-nique…’ while slitting… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“Predictably, the national broadcaster—a viper’s nest of socialists, tree-huggers and ugly, barren females—had seized on the survey, exhuming one of its bleeding-heart ideologues to… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“George moved from one group of people he didn’t know to another, trying to get out of the draught. The girls didn’t seem to… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
“In Rome, Matt had told her, ‘I knew that if I kept up my playing, we would have a baby.’ That was what music… — Michelle de Kretser Copy Share
