In fiction, I have been on a Zweig kick. In England over December, I noticed that many British newspapers' year-end recommenders were praising the Pushkin Press for reissuing several works by Stefan Zweig, a brilliant Austrian writer whose work brings… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
The gap between the inner and outer self is one I've found interesting, even essential, about the way we move through the world. In… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
Those who are apparently absent can feel more present than the people right in front of you. — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“We will never be together. Sweetheart. I am too brittle, hidden, and snappish, and you are too married. You are altogether too married.” — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“He wants me back." The closing punctuation of "obviously" hung in the air. The confidence in her! Anne would always have it: the certainty… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“Such nights are possible, and we survive them. It is a matter of sleeping next to the adored body you no longer have the… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“And how easy it was to leave this life, after all - this life that could feel so present and permanent that departing from… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
It could not always be love in the afternoon and passion in the night, gifts given, notes written, meals fed to each other. It… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“She'd have to start smoking. There would be no other way through this.” — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“I've been called promiscuous. Not a pretty word, is it? Makes you think of the gloop that comes out of your nose or what… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“The heart did ache, actually. She felt a dull grind of lack somewhere near her diaphragm, a pain that occupied the space of something… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“Flannery had loved Anne truly. And truthfully. She had seen Anne clearly, not covered with the reflective glitter a person acquires if you view… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
