It was good, and nothing good is truly lost. It stays part of a person, becomes part of their character. So part of you goes everywhere with me. And part of me is yours, forever — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
It was better not to get too close to another person. The closer you got, the more likely you were to get hurt. — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
I wasn't good enough. I had a little talent but not enough. There is nothing more discouraging than having just a little talent. — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
“For he was drinking too much. Not uncontrollably nor offensively, but still he seldom seemed to have a glass out of his hand.” — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
“Oscar and I are very close, and yet I know that part of him is still withdrawn, even from me. As though part of… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
“- Elfrida, are you about to cry? - I might be. - Why? - Relief. ♥” — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
Grief was like a terrible burden, but at least you could lay it down by the side of the road and walk away from… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
“Alone. She realized how much she had missed the luxury of solitude, and knew that its occasional comfort would always be essential to her.… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
Writing is work, but it's also a compulsion, and once you get your characters on paper, you can't abandon them. You have to respond… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
“A ring was the accepted sign of infinity, eternity. If her own life was that carefully described pencil line, she knew it all at… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
She remembered him smiling, and realized that time, that great old healer, had finally accomplished its work, and now, across the years, the face… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
“all its occupants had left without her. This troubled Frances not in the least. She already seemed to have made a lot of new… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
“Time had lost its importance. That was one of the good things about getting old: you weren't perpetually in a hurry. All her life,… — Rosamunde Pilcher Copy Share Image
