“One can't help thinking, Daddy, what a colourless life a man is forced to lead, when one reflects that chiffon and Venetian point and hand embroidery and Irish crochet are to him mere empty words. Whereas a woman- whether she is interested in babies or microbes or husbands or poetry or servants or parallelograms or gardens or Plato or bridge- is fundamentally and always interested in clothes.” ThinkingMenHelpingHandsBabyHusbandClothesGardenEmptyMereBridgesServantPlatoDaddyMicrobesEmbroideryEmpty WordsParallelogram Book:Daddy-Long-Legs Source: Daddy-Long-Legs
“He just seems as cool as ever. I can smell him. Even on the other side, there is smell. Like, when babies are born, there's two smells-one is chicken soup, which is the flesh, and the other is lilacs, which is coming from the spiritual garden. The spirit has a lilac smell.” I CanTwoSeemsSpiritualSpiritSidesBornBabyGardenSmellFleshChickensSoupLilacChicken Soup Author:Carlos Santana
“When a baby comes you can smell two things: the smell of flesh, which smells like chicken soup, and the smell of lilies, the flower of another garden, the spiritual garden.” TwoSpiritualFlowerBabyGardenSmellFleshTwo ThingsChickensSoupLiliesNew BabyChicken Soup Author:Carlos Santana
“The drab brown front of the house made it look as if it had been built from rusty spare parts. Someone always put lace curtains in the windows of dreary houses, and Nick was unsurprised to see the curtains making their attempts in every window of this place. There was a china garden gnome on the doorstep, wearing a desperate, crazy smile. "It's not so bad," Alan said. "You never take me nice places anymore, baby." said Nick, and was mildly gratified by Alan's ring of laughter, like a living bell that had been caught by surprise when it was struck.” IfsLooksMadeSaidHouseNiceCrazyFrontsBabyLaughterBuiltGardenWindowSurpriseCaughtChinaRingsMade ItDesperateBrownTake MeBellsSparesCurtainsDrearyLaceGnomeDoorstepSpare Parts Book:The Demon's Lexicon Source: The Demon's Lexicon
“Me, Polly Garter, under the washing line, giving the breast in the garden to my bonny new baby. Nothing grows in our garden, only washing. And babies. And where's their fathers live, my love? Over the hills and far away. You're looking up at me now. I know what you're thinking, you poor little milky creature. You're thinking, you're no better than you should be, Polly, and that's good enough for me. Oh, isn't life a terrible thing, thank God?” ThinkingKnowsGivingShouldLittlesEnoughFatherGrowsLinesPoorBabyTerribleCreaturesGardenHillsBreastsGood EnoughThank GodFar AwayTerrible ThingsWashingBetter Than YouNew BabyGarters Author:Dylan Thomas