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Girl in Hyacinth Blue
Book:
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
Quotes of Book: Girl in Hyacinth Blue
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Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
She remembered wishing, one particular morning... that she might someday have someone to write to, that she could write at the end of a letter full of love and news, "As ever, your loving Magdalena Elisabeth.
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Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
Never did she succumb to the cowardice of self-pity. I had fancied love a causal adjunct and not the central turning shaft making all the parts move. I had not stood astonished before the power of its turning.
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Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
Her stony coldness was more convincing of the cataclysm than the dirt. Argument was as futile now as blame in Eden. I could not bear to look at her. She had cast away her soul.
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Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
...Thank the Lord you have a man as hardworking as Stijn. Work is love made plain, whether man's or woman's work, and you're a fool if you don't recognize it.
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Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
The only place Aletta and I could be together unseen was just under the rafters in the church tower, a circumstance that propelled us into an earlier intimacy than what we would have known had we been permitted to walk together Sunday afternoons under the wide sky.
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secrets
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Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
She was a desperate woman with frailties just like her, temptations just like her, a woman who had needs, a woman who loved almost to the point of there being no more her anymore, a woman who probably cried too much, just like her, a woman afraid, wanting to believe rather than believing {...}
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love
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family
Susan Vreeland
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Girl in Hyacinth Blue
I came to see that knowing what love isn't might be just as valuable, though infinitely less satisfying, as knowing what it is.
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love
Susan Vreeland
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Girl in Hyacinth Blue
It was strange: When you reduced even a fledgling love affair to its essentials - I loved her, she maybe loved me, I was foolish, I suffered - it became vacuous and trite, meaningless to anyone else. In the end, it's only the moments that we have, the kiss on the palm, the joint wonder at the furrowed texture of a fir trunk or at the infinitude of grains of sand in a dune. Only the moments.
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love
life
time
Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
Her chest ached like a dull wound when she realized that her silence did not cause him a moment's reflection or curiosity. When she looked out the corner of her eye at him, she could not tell what she meant to him... Another wish that never would come true, she saw then, even if she lived forever, was that he, that someone, would look at her not as an artistic study, but with love.
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Susan Vreeland
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Girl in Hyacinth Blue
There was something in this girl he could never grasp, an inner life inscrutable to him. He was in awe of the child's flights of fancy, her insatiable passion always to be running off somewhere, her active inner life.
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Susan Vreeland
_
Girl in Hyacinth Blue
She wasn't at peace the way that artist painted her. She was leaning forward, and the rigidness of her spine showed the ache in her soul. She was a desperate woman with frailties just like her, temptations just liker her, a woman who had needs, a woman who loved almost to the point of there being no more her anymore, a woman who probably cried too much, just like her, a woman afraid, wanting to believe rather than believing...
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Susan Vreeland
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Girl in Hyacinth Blue
If, indeed, that was love, it wasn't enough.
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