Sonya Hartnett Quotes

She doesn't understand that doors, walls, fences, ceilings - they're helpless to keep out what determinedly desires to get in.

No bird in a cage ever speaks. What is there to say? The sky is everywhere, churning above its head, blue and endless, calling out to it. But the caged bird can't answer anything except 'I cannot'.

Love is like moonlight or thunder, or rain on a tin roof in the middle of the night; it is one of those things in life that is truly worth knowing.

Let me fly, let me see things that are hidden from other eyes.

Strange how love coexists with hate, how they render eachother mute, how the swilling of them together makes a new and softer, sympathetic thing.

My life was pouring out my feet and seeping through cracks in the floor; yet still I knelt and did not move, for fear she'd let go my hands. Let me stay, I wanted to beg: Please don't make me go.

A small town has as many eyes as a fly

Words on the page are never prisoners of the page

Every atom in me feels composed of lead. This is what dying is: a pull to the ground.

Yeah, reflections! The same, but different. Like twins - like blood brothers! And when you need something bad done, like punishment or revenge, you'll just ask me, and I will do it -

Affection makes fools. Always, without exception, love digs a channel that's sooner or later flooded by the briny water of despair.

I would always be lonely, but no more alone.

I suppose that's what happens when you make other people's lives miserable: life gets miserable back at you.

How does one craft happiness out of something as important, as complicated, as unrepeatable and as easily damaged as life?

I am dying: it's a beautiful word. Like the long slow sigh of the cello: dying. But the sound of it is the only beautiful thing about it.

There is nothing that is more beautiful than everything else in the world.

There's fire in my fingers. I burn everything I touch.

Life is lived on the inside. What's outside doesn't matter.

It is scary, sometimes, Tomas admitted. But the scary bits are what make you brave.

A small town is nothing but eyes and gaping maw; it pecks at its own like a flock of vicious birds.

I want my life to be mystifying," she declared, although she didn't know what she meant.

In the quest for power, truth is always the first thing left behind.

You're just a coward, like all those who stand behind the suffering of others.

We both knew that what I said was the truth, as well as being a lie. The pure and honest answer was pinging between us, hovering above the weeds.

She was the one who wanted to be with him, the one who watched and waited for him, who felt his absence badly.

But what she feels is sometimes hard to express...Much of what is best in her is warped on the voyage from within to without.

Evangeline's obliviousness was a reason to like her rather than not: I liked least those schoolfellows whose awareness of me invariably caused misery.

I am dying: it's a beautiful word. Like the long slow sigh of a cello: dying. But the sound of it is the only beautiful thing about it.

I fail to see how turning the subject over like compost can do anything except raise its stink.