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Quote by Maria Teresa Quevedo

“I love our Lord with all my heart. But He wants me to love Our Lady in a special way and to go to Him with my hand in Mary's. My affection for her is like that of a tiny child for its mother. You know, Nines, how a baby clings to his mother's skirt when he is learning to walk? Well, that is the way Our Lord wants me to cling to Our Lady's blue mantle.”

Quote by Maria Teresa Quevedo

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Maria Teresa Quevedo

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“Theme It's a sunny weekday in early May and after a ham sandwich and a cold bottle of beer on the brick terrace, I am consumed by the wish to add something to one of the ancient themes– youth dancing with his eyes closed, for example, in the shadows of corruption and death, or the rise and fall of illustrious men strapped to the turning wheel of mischance and disaster. There is a slight breeze, just enough to bend the yellow tulips on their stems, but that hardly helps me echo the longing for immortality despite the roaring juggernaut of time, or the painful motif of Nature's cyclial return versus man's blind rush to the grave. I could loosen my shirt and lie down in the soft grass, sweet now after its first cutting, but that would not produce a record of the pursuit of the moth of eternal beauty or the despondency that attends the eventual dribble of the once gurgling fountain of creativity. So, as far as great topics go, that seems to leave only the fall from exuberant maturity into sudden, headlong decline– a subject that fills me with silence and leaves me with no choice but to spend the rest of the day sniffing the jasmine vine and surrendering to the ivory goverance of the piano by picking out with my index finger the melody notes of "Easy to Love," a song in which Cole Porter expresses, with put-on nonchalance, the hopelessness of a love brimming with desire and a hunger for affection, but met only and always with frosty disregard.”

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“He'd seen a different side of her today, he realized with pleasure, recalling the sight of her standing on the bow of the Orpheus, holding on to the shrouds with the wind in her face and a look of pure delight in her eyes. She'd been a vision with those skirts flapping wildly around her legs, so different from his long-standing perception of her. And when they rounded the point, something had awakened inside him. An emotion he'd not felt in a very long time- a deep, genuine affection that reached beyond the surface thrill of the conquest.”

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“She reached her hand behind her back and grabbed his. She could just as easily have gripped another part of him because she wasn’t looking. She was wearing gloves, the thin kind, but he wasn’t. He had forgotten to bring them, and it wasn’t cold. Even if it had been, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Inside him, it was like a sunny summer’s day on a Cornish beach – complete with a light breeze that ensured it wasn’t too lovely. He worried that she didn’t realise she was holding his hand. She probably didn’t want to hold anybody’s hand and particularly not his.”

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