Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Mary Balogh

Quote by Mary Balogh

Work

Simply Love

This book delves into the essence of love, examining its various forms and the impact it has on individuals and society. more

Author

Mary Balogh
Mary Balogh

Mary Balogh is a renowned British novelist, born on March 24, 1944. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and romantic storylines, which have won the hearts of readers worldwide. more

You May Also Like

“I keep finding the ashes of the man I unequivocally loved, everywhere. Everytime, I go to bed, they are displaced about my covers when memories flood back in my mind. When I glance at my skin, the ashes are smeared on my skin like hand prints from a tragic crime scene. When you cross my mind, the ashes of moments of intimacy fall to my heart, my body forcefully expell them through my lungs and tear ducts. The ashes spew out in an eruption of utter chaos. The ashes block out my perception of love and self value. My sight is distorted to truth and trust. The particles of ashe prevent me from forgetting. ANONYMOUS”

“De même il suffit de penser qu’une douleur s’en va pour sentir en effet cette douleur disparaître peu à peu, et, inversement, il suffit de penser que l’on souffre pour que l’on sente immédiatement venir la souffrance. - In the same way, it is enough to think that a pain is going away to feel this pain disappearing little by little, and, conversely, it is enough to think that one is suffering for one to immediately feel the suffering coming.”

“Bonnie was so drunk she could hardly walk. ... I had always felt sorry for her, having to live the life she was living, never a minute’s peace. She had often told me she was happier when she had something to drink. So I did not blame her for staying drunk most of the time, if it made her feel better.”

“This moment would define my memory of that night, and of the many nights like it, for a decade. In it I saw myself as unbreakable, as tender as stone. At first I merely believed this, until one day it became the truth. Then I was able to tell myself, without lying, that it didn't affect me, that he didn't affect me, because nothing affected me. I didn't understand how morbidly right I was. How I had hollowed myself out. For all my obsessing over the consequences of that night, I had misunderstood the vital truth: that its not affecting me, that was its effect.”