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Quote by Haruki Murakami

“It's strange, isn't it?" the woman said in a pensive voice. "Everything is blowing up around us , but there are still those who care about broken lock, and others who are dutiful enough to try to fix it... But maybe that's the way it should be. Maybe working on the little things as dutifully and hostels as we can is how we stay sane when the world is falling apart.”

Quote by Haruki Murakami

Book:سامسای عاشق
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سامسای عاشق

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Haruki Murakami

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“Her endless complaining was finally too much for Sara to take. "Oh, good Lord, that's enough," she exclaimed impatiently. "I'm going to die," Joyce moaned. "Unfortunately that's not the case. The bullet passed cleanly through your shoulder, the bleeding's stopped, and whatever discomfort you feel isn't nearly enough to make up for all you've done," Sara continued with growing exasperation. "The first time I met Derek was on the night you had his face slashed, and ever since then you've harassed and tormented us both. You brought this on yourself!" "You're enjoying my suffering," Joyce whined. "Somehow I can't dredge up much sympathy for a woman who's just tried to kill me! And when I think of the cruel, callous way you destroyed Derek's club..." "He'll always hate me for that," Joyce whispered in satisfaction. "I'll always have that part of him, at least." "No," Sara said firmly. "I'm going to fill his life with such happiness that he'll have no room to hate anyone. He won't spare you a thought. You'll be nothing to him.”

Sara FieldingJoyce Ashby
Book:Dreaming of You
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“Agitatedly she touched the heavy necklace at her throat, worrying the smooth emeralds between her fingers. "Give that to me," Joyce said sharply, watching her. "The necklace?" "Yes, take it off." Joyce watched as Sara unhooked the glittering treasure from her neck. "A peasant woman with a necklace fit for a queen," she sneered. "You don't have the grace or bearing to wear it properly. Give it to me." Her eager fingers wrapped around the necklace, and she snatched it away. Setting it on the seat beside her, she toyed lovingly with the web of emeralds and diamonds. "He gave me presents... a bracelet, a necklace, jeweled combs for my hair... but nothing as fine as this." She smiled at Sara tauntingly. "The day he gave me the combs, he said that he'd imagined making love to me wearing jewels in my golden hair and nothing else. He much prefers blond hair to dark, did you know that?”

Sara FieldingJoyce Ashby
Book:Dreaming of You
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“After picking up the lamp, she went to Joyce, who was clutching her injured shoulder. I should leave you here, she thought. She was unaware she had said the words aloud until Joyce replied. "You can't let me die!" "You're not going to die." Disgusted, terrified, Sara removed her own petticoat, wadded it up, and pressed it firmly against the wound to staunch the blood. Joyce screamed like an enraged cat, her eyes slitted and demonic. Sara's ears rang from the piercing cry. "Be quiet, you bitch!" Sara snapped. "Not another sound!" Suddenly her entire body was filled with furious energy. She felt strong enough to push down a stone wall with her bare hands. She went to the crumbling entrance of the castle and saw that the hack driver was still waiting, craning his neck curiously. "You!" she shouted. "Come here right away, or you won't get a bloody shilling of what she promised!" She turned back to Joyce, her blue eyes blazing. "And you... give me back my necklace.”

Sara FieldingInner Strength Of A WomanJoyce Ashby
Book:Dreaming of You
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“She'd never seen a place so decorated so extravagantly. It was like a glittering underwater kingdom, reminding her of the tales of Atlantis that had enchanted her as a child. The walls were hung with gauzy blue and green silk draperies. A painted canvas studded with seashells gave the impression of a castle beneath the sea. Slowly she wandered around the room, inspecting the plaster sculptures of fish, scallop shells, and bare-breasted mermaids. A gaudy treasure chest filled with paste jewels was wedged beneath the central hazard table. The doorway to the next room had been converted into the hull of a sunken ship. Lengths of blue gauze and silver netting were hung overhead, making it seem as if they were under water.”

ThemeUnderwaterAtlantisDecorumSara Fielding
Book:Dreaming of You
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“Sara was silent, all of her exuberance at being with Perry fading. She had come here to be with him, not to receive a lecture from his mother, no matter how well-intentioned. Why was Perry allowing it without a word? He was being complacent while his mother dominated their time together. Ignoring a twinge of resentment, Sara tried to steer the conversation in a new direction. "Tell me what happened in Greenwood Corners while I was away. How is old Mr. Dawson's gout?" "Much better," Martha replied. "He actually put his shoes on the other day and went for a stroll." "His niece Rachel became engaged to Johnny Chesterson the day before last," Perry added. "Oh, that's wonderful," Sara exclaimed. "The Chestersons are lucky to have such a nice girl in their family." Martha nodded primly. "Rachel is the kind of spiritual, self-effacing girl that Mr. Kingswood always hoped his son would marry. She would never dream of drawing attention to herself... as some young women do." "Are you referring to me?" Sara asked quietly. "I am making a point about Rachel." Slowly Sara set her cup and saucer on the table and looked at Perry, who had colored at his mother's rudeness. "It's a wonder you never courted such a paragon," Sara told him, smiling although her chest was tightening with anger. Martha answered for her son. "Perry was never free to court her or any other girls in the village. Someone else was always taking up his time with her demanding possessiveness." Sara felt her face turn red. "Was that you or me, I wonder?”

ComparisonsClingySara FieldingMother IssuesPerry Kingswood
Book:Dreaming of You
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“A battle between two worlds. She realised that St. Mawr drew his hot breaths in another world from Rico's, from our world. Perhaps the old Greek horses had lived in St. Mawr's world. And the old Greek heroes, even Hippolytus, had known it. With their strangely naked equine heads, and something of a snake in their way of looking round, and lifting their sensitive, dangerous muzzles, they moved in a prehistoric twilight where all things loomed phantasmagoric, all on one plane, sudden presences suddenly jutting out of the matrix. It was another world, an older, heavily potent world. And in this world the horse was swift and fierce and supreme, undominated and unsurpassed.--"Meet him half-way," Lewis said. But half-way across from our human world to that terrific equine twilight was not a small step. It was a step, she knew, that Rico could never take. She knew it. But she was prepared to sacrifice Rico.”

St Mawr
Author:DH Lawrence
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