“Perfection in anything is unbearably dull. Myself, I prefer a touch of imperfection.”
Colleen McCullough“The lovely thing about being forty is that you can appreciate twenty-five-year-old men more.”
Colleen McCullough“The lovely thing about being forty is that you can appreciate twenty-five-year-old men more.”
Colleen McCullough“Rain, rain, rain. Like a benediction from some vast inscrutable hand, long withheld, finally given. The blessed, wonderful rain. For rain meant grass, and grass was life.”
Colleen McCullough“The best thing about being 40 is that you can appreciate 25-year-old men more.”
Colleen McCullough“Until you can leave the matter of forgiveness to God, you will not have acquired true humility.”
Colleen McCullough“He was, he admitted, a man who liked to have his cake and eat it too.”
Colleen McCullough, The Touch“He hadn't wooed her, but had simply claimed her. A gold mine ready to dig. There should have been a period of quiet dinners together, of flowers rather than diamonds, of kisses given after permission to kiss, of a slow awakening that predisposed her to greater intimacies. But no, not the great Alexander Kinross! He had met her, he had married her the next day, and climbed into her bed after one kiss in the church. There to prove himself an animal in her eyes. One mistake after another, that was the story of his relationship with Elizabeth. And Ruby had always meant more.”
Colleen McCullough, The Touch“He owe his wife a debt he couldn't hope to pay with any coin save one: open the cage and let the bird fly.”
Colleen McCullough, The Touch“Meggie dropped to her knees, scrambling frantically to collect the miniature clothes before more damage was done them, then she began picking among the grass blades where she thought the pearls might have fallen. Her tears were blinding her, the grief in her heart new, for until now she had never owned anything worth grieving for.”
Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds“Perfection in anything is unbearably dull. Myself, I prefer a touch of imperfection.”
Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds