when I first began this diary I said I would give a record of my inner life. I begin to wonder if I have said anything about my inner life. What if I have no inner life? — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
I must go down to the seas again to find where I buried the hatchet with Yesterday. — Janet Frame Copy Share
“So I went up north to a land of palm trees and mangroves like malignant growths in the mud-filled throats of the bays, and… — Janet Frame Copy Share
“A certain pleasure was added to Grace’s relief at establishing herself as a migratory bird. She found that she understood the characters in her… — Janet Frame Copy Share
“I have to cry out here that language is all we have for the delicacy and truth of telling, that words are the sole… — Janet Frame Copy Share
The only certainty about writing and trying to be a writer is that it has to be done, not dreamed of or planned and… — Janet Frame Copy Share
Listening to her, one experienced a deep uneasiness as of having avoided an urgent responsibility, like someone who, walking at night along the banks… — Janet Frame Copy Share
People dread silence because it is transparent; like clear water, which reveals every obstacle—the used, the dead, the drowned, silence reveals the cast-off words… — Janet Frame Copy Share
So we went to bed, assaulted by sleep that fumed at us from medicine glasses, or was wielded from small sweet-coated tablets -- dainty… — Janet Frame Copy Share
She grew more and more silent about what really mattered. She curled inside herself like one of those black chimney brushes, the little shellfish… — Janet Frame Copy Share
Conversation is the wall we build between ourselves and other people, too often with tired words like used and broken bottles which, catching the… — Janet Frame Copy Share
But it is imperative, for our own survival, that we avoiid one another, and what more successful means of avoidance are there than words?… — Janet Frame Copy Share
