I hated the mountains and the hills, the rivers and the rain. I hated the sunsets of whatever colour, I hated its beauty and its magic and the secret I would never know. I hated its indifference and the cruelty… — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
All of writing is a huge lake. There are great rivers that feed the lake, like Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky. And then there are mere trickles, like Jean Rhys. All that matters is feeding the lake. I don't matter. The lake… — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
Of course she had some pathetic illusions about herself or she would not be able to go on living. — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
As soon as I turned the key I saw it hanging, the color of fire and sunset. the colour of flamboyant flowers. ‘If you… — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
Human beings are struggling, and so they are egoists. But it's wrong to say that they are wholy cruel - it's a deformed view. — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
“THe room was large and low-ceilinged, the striped wallpaper faded to inoffensiveness. A huge dark wardrobe faced a huge dark bed. The rest of… — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
There is no doubt that running away on a fresh, blue morning can be exhilarating. — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
Blot out the moon, Pull down the stars. Love in the dark, for we're for the dark So soon, so soon. — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
“But in the daytime it was all right. And when you'd had a drink you knew it was the best way to live in… — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
Everything tender and melancholy - as life is sometimes, just for one moment. — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
“You are walking along a road peacefully. You trip. You fall into blackness. That's the past - or perhaps the future. And you know… — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
“She spent the foggy day in endless, aimless walking, for it seemed to her that if she moved quickly enough she would escape the… — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
