It’s Tolstoy, by the way,” I say as I open the door. He turns around. “What?” Shut up, I tell myself. Shut up. “The writer of Anna Karenina. Not Trotsky. Trotsky was a revolutionary who was stabbed with a pickax… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
Some of us weren't born for rewards, Froi. We were born for sacrifices. — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
I'm very disturbed to find out that the leader of the Townies has a soul and I'm beginning to develop a bit of a… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
In the games of queens and kings, we leave our dreams at the door and we make do with what we have. Sometimes if… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
And then you came along and you spoke to me and nobody had looked me in the eye for years. (...) But I remember you that day and you looked at peace with yourself and it made me reconsider everything I had planned to do. Because I thought to myself, you can't do this to her, not after the Hermit… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share
Do you want to know something about tyrants? When faced with death, they weep and they beg just like the rest of us. — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
“you do that all the time you know. you ask me questions when you know the answer will piss you off. ask me a question where the answer could be yes? ask me if you're worth the hard work? ask me if in the last seven years of my life i've woken up in a cold sweat knowing i lost… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share
I need voices of reason and of hysteria and of empathy. I need to have an Alanis moment. I need advice from Elizabeth Bennett.… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
“When I saw "Ulysses" on Georgie's bedside table and Tom Finch's name written on it in a scrawl so like my old man's, I felt that I wanted to read it as a preparation for what's about to happen to us all. I understand where the brawny part of my father and I come from - Bill. I'm not saying… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share
“Our bodies aren't strangers,' he said, his voice ragged. 'Our spirits aren't strangers'. He held her face in his hands. 'Tell me what part… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
Phaedra of Alonso’s death was a never-ending pain that gnawed at his insides. It made him a prisoner in his own cottage. — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
You know what? You didn't do anything wrong. I did. It's this dumb thing I do. I look into things and see more than… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
Everything's going to be fine. She'll be back at work soon. Let's just keep the house clean." Oh yeah, I want to say, because… — Melina Marchetta Copy Share Image
