Book: The thorn birds. Page 2

Yes, I desperately fought with you, my Maggie! And yet in the end not you, the broken pieces, I need to glue the pieces, and somehow collect their own debris.

No, she's not a Saint, she is almost the same as all. Only never complains, is a very special gift - or perhaps curse? - sepiamusic patience. Whatever the loss, whatever blow struck, she meets them, takes all there is, and keeps, and nourishes the flame burning inside.

Words of love are meaningless. I can yell you that I love, a thousand times a day, and still you would doubt. Here I'm not talking about his love, I lived it.

What good to languish on the person, if it is still your never be?

Why, soon I think I'm starting to arrange my life differently, every time something happens?

For a woman to be born as a Scorpion is no worse. The devil's daughter that's who they are!

Matter what you or others thought, it still, still, still!

Free, weightless, like magic the air with the salty scent of the sea and the scent of sun-drenched foliage, for some time he floated on the wings unknown to him before freedom: it is a relief to abandon the struggle, to which he was forced, as peace in the soul when he finally lost a long, unimaginably brutal war and it turns out, lose a lot sweeter than the battle.

Nobody appreciates what is too much. We have in excess of a sheep, and in the city - people.

... to look into his eyes when in front of you, not him! Cruel, severe punishment.

And now she wanted to really get to know the taste of love, breathe in her scent, to take it to dizziness.

What bliss it would be for once in your life don't hide what I feel! But the usual skill and prudence ingrained in his flesh and blood.

This slim sophisticated mind did not guess that the apparent frankness may be where any deceitful techniques.

That's why bad when you get to the island; forget that and beyond your shores, something is happening.