Tracy Chevalier Quotes
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Younger women tend to be busier, wearing more layers and more make-up. I don't know if it's because older women are more confident, or just that we don't care any more. But that pared-down approach is the same with the sentences I write; I take out adjectives and adverbs and keep the description to a minimum.
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It's those little daily incidents of life that are dramatic, and if you put a frame around it , suddenly they become much bigger and much more important than you ever imagined.
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I have consistently loved books that I've read when I've been sick in bed.
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Don't write about what you know - write about what you're interested in. Don't write about yourself - you aren't as interesting as you think.
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I try to write 1,000 words a day - about three pages. When I reach 1,000 words I feel good. Less than that: a failure. More than that: tired.
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Over his shoulder I saw a star fall. It was me.
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Say something worth the words.
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You're so calm and quiet, you never say. But there are things inside you. I see them sometimes, hiding in your eyes.
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You know I don’t listen to market gossip,” she began, “but it is hard not to hear it when my daughter’s name is mentioned.
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Jane Austen easily used half a page describing someone else's eyes; she would not appreciate summarizing her reading tastes in ten titles.
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It's a rare book that wins the battle against drooping eyelids.
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The sign of a masterpiece: A painting when there's a lack of resolution.
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I find that when I come out of the library I'm in what I call the library bliss of being totally taken away from the distractions of life.
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As I get older, I use less jewelry - necklace or earrings each morning, not both; my clothes are getting more basic - fewer colours and simpler cuts; and my make-up is stripped back to basics.
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I have spent my life waiting for something to happen,’ she said. ‘And I have come to understand that nothing will. Or it already has, and I blinked during that moment and it's gone. I don't know which is worse — to have missed it or to know there is nothing to miss.’ Falling Angels
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It was not a house where secrets could be kept easily.
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I wanted to wear the mantle and the pearls. I wanted to know the man who painted her like that.
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My father was often impatient during March, waiting for winter to end, the cold to ease, the sun to reappear. March was an unpredictable month, when it was never clear what might happen. Warm days raised hopes until ice and grey skies shut over the town again.
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That's how fossil hunting is: It takes over, like a hunger, and nothing else matters but what you find. And even when you find it, you still start looking again the next minute, because there might be something even better waiting.
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Yes, well, life is a folly. If you live long enough, nothing is surprising.
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Normally book ideas come to me in a moment.
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So many (too many) books are published every year, and it seems everyone is writing a book. Perhaps we should all be reading more and writing less!
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He saw things in a way that others did not, so that a city I had lived in all my life seemed a different place, so that a woman became beautiful with the light on her face.
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I had walked along that street all my life, but had never been so aware that my back was to my home