The relationship you have with your mother is like nothing else. They do kind of know everything about you, even though they… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
I like dramas because there's a big overlap between film and fiction, so I feel relatively qualified to talk about plot and… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
People say, 'You're like Dickens', but I'm not like Dickens. Zadie Smith is a Dickensian writer because she's writing about society now,… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
The early '20s were like the waist of an hourglass. Lots of things were hurtling toward it and squeezing through it and… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
I love film and, particularly, shorts. You don't get to see them often, and they're a great little form, like a short… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
When theatre works, it's like nothing else, and when it doesn't, which is often, it's excruciating. It's perhaps not so excruciating when… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
“Now, from the crown of my head to the curve of my toe-nails, there was an unguent for every part of me - oil… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
“Miss Craven held up a pair she thought would fit me—monstrous great things they were, of course, and I thought she smiled as she… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
I suppose I really seemed mad, then; but it was only through the awfulness of having said nothing but the truth, and being thought… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
My nan was a nursery maid. Most people weren't in big houses. They were maids of all work. — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
Being in love, you know... it's not like having a canary, in a cage. When you lose one sweetheart, you can't just go out… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
For was that all, she thought bleakly, that love ever was? Something that saved one from loneliness? A sort of insurance policy against not… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
“And yet, I seemed to feel my eyes bound, too, with bands of silk. And at my throat there was a velvet collar.” — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
“No-one speaks. No-one moves (…). We glide, softly, in silence, into our dark and separate hells” — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
“She loved these walks through London. She seemed, as she made them, to become porous, to soak in detail after detail; or else, like… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
“Oh, for shame! Nancy, have you never seen Florrie's face in a chrysanthemum, or a rose?' 'Never.' I said. 'Though there was a flounder… — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
“My locket hangs in my closet beside the glass, the only shining thing among so many shadows.” — Sarah Waters Copy Share Image
