I am human. Like all humans, I do not remember my birth. By the time we wake up to ourselves, we are little children, and our advent is something that happened an eternity ago, at the beginning of time. We… — Diane Setterfield Copy Share Image
“They are more real than the books on the shelves, books that are sketched with the barest hint of a line here and there, fading in places to a ghostly nothingness. Why recall the picture now, you must be wondering. The reason I remember it so well is that it seems to be an image of the way I have… — Diane Setterfield Copy Share
What better way to get to know someone than through her choice and treatment of books? — Diane Setterfield Copy Share Image
“I have always been a reader; I have read at every stage of my life, and there has never been a time when reading was not my greatest joy. And yet I cannot pretend that the reading I have done in my adult years matches in its impact on my soul the reading I did as a child. I still… — Diane Setterfield Copy Share
“Yesterday or the day before, while I had been going about my business, quietly and in private, some unknown person—some stranger—had gone to the trouble of marking my name onto this envelope. Who was it who had had his mind’s eye on me while I hadn’t suspected a thing?” — Diane Setterfield Copy Share
“But perhaps the answer is to stop writing altogether, for when I do write, even now as I write this very sentence, this very word, I am aware of a ghost reader who leans over my shoulder watching my pen, who twists my words and perverts my meaning, and makes me uncomfortable in the privacy of my own thoughts. It… — Diane Setterfield Copy Share
Our clients' faces, with the customary outward paleness and inner glow of the book lover. — Diane Setterfield Copy Share Image
“He felt something move in his chest, as though an organ had been removed and something unfamiliar left in its place. A sentiment he… — Diane Setterfield Copy Share Image
