Each of us has something within us which won't be denied, even if it makes us scream aloud to die. We are what we are, that's all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
There's a story... a legend, about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree... and never rests until it's found one. And then it sings... more… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
The bird with the thorn in its breast, it follows an immutable law; it is driven by it knows not what to impale itself,… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
My fictitious characters will take the bit between their teeth and gallop off and do something that I hadn't counted on. However, I always… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
I want to know what they look like, their height, and colouring, physique and speech pattens. — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
Old age is an ordeal, of flesh and mind. Of winding down, of slowing down, of dying cells. It's accepting the loss of physical… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
“But not we men. We weren't fit to be told. For so you women think, and hug your mysteries, getting your backs on us… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
How frightening, that one person could mean so much, so many things. — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
“It's not worth getting upset about, Mrs. Dominic. Down in the city they don't know how the other half lives, and they can afford… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
“You still think love can save us. It's more killing than hate. Hate is so clean, so simple. Like being in the ring. With… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
“You still think love can save us. It’s more killing than hate. Hate is so clean, so simple. Like being in the ring. With… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
If you love people, they kill you. If you need people, they kill you. They do I tell you! — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
“The law should not be a huge and weighty slab which falls upon a man and squashes him into a uniform shape, for men… — Colleen McCullough Copy Share Image
