Daphne du Maurier
Daphne du Maurier
Dame Daphne du Maurier, Lady Browning DBEwas an English author and playwright...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth13 May 1907
writing long hills
Here was the freedom I desired, long sought-for, not yet known Freedom to write, to walk, to wander, freedom to climb hills, to pull a boat, to be alone.
morning thinking people
If you think I'm one of those people who try to be funny at breakfast you're wrong. I'm invariably ill-tempered in the early morning.
writing scary firsts
When one is writing a novel in the first person, one must be that person.
book hero mean
What about the hero of The House on the Strand? What did it mean when he dropped the telephone at the end of the book? I don't really know, but I rather think he was going to be paralysed for life. Don't you?
people
People who travel are always fugitives.
life-and-death waiting action
Life and death do not wait for legal action.
book self autobiography
All autobiography is self-indulgent.
memories eye animal
[Referring to the birds:] Nat listened to the tearing sound of splintering wood, and wondered how many million years of memory were stored in those little brains, behind the stabbing beaks, the piercing eyes, now giving them this instinct to destroy mankind with all the deft precision of machines.
book names name-dropping
And I don't like books which are full of name dropping.
stars rocks air
The urge to climb will never be explained. In olden days, perhaps it was a wish to reach the stars. Today, anyone so minded can buy a seat on a plane and feel himself master of the skies. Even so, he will not have rock under his feet, or air upon his face; nor will he know the silence that comes only on the hills.
simple mirrors simple-life
How simple life becomes when things like mirrors are forgotten.
lying eye night
There was never an accident.Rebecca was not drowned at all. I killed her.I shot Rebecca in the cottage in the cove.I carried her body to the cabin, and took the boat out that night and sunk it there, where they found it today.It's Rebecca who's lying dead there on the cabin floor.Will you look into my eyes and tell me that you love me now?
children arms
I held out my arms to him and he came to me like a child.
laughter real laughing
Time will mellow it, make it a moment for laughter. But now it was not funny, now I did not laugh. It was not the future, it was the present. It was too vivid and too real.