Enid Bagnold Quotes.
Before you fall asleep everyday, say something positive to yourself.
One’s palate is reborn every morning!
As for death one gets used to it, even if it’s only other people’s death you get used to.
The dangerous thing about hate is that it seems so reasonable.
One never knows when one is old for certain.
From birth to death we are alone.
Pity is exhaustible. What a terrible discovery!
When a man goes through six years training to be a doctor he will never be the same. He knows too much.
After forty years of marriage we still stood with broken swords in our hands.
It’s not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself) –to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart.
Isn’t the fear of pain next brother to pain itself?
Judges don’t age; time decorates them.
Let this serve as an axiom to every lover: A woman who refuses lunch refuses everything.
I am not a born writer, but I was born a writer.
You will be old-fashioned one day. It’s more shocking than getting old.
The pleasure of one’s effect on other people still exists in age – what’s called making a hit. But the hit is much rarer and made of different stuff.
I shall continue to explore-the astonishment of living.
Why do birds sing in the morning? It’s the triumphant shout: ‘We got through another night!’
An only child is never twelve.
As for death, one gets used to it, even if it is only other people is death you get used to.
I don’t like people,” said Velvet. “… I only like horses.
A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman he turns her back again.
Things come suitable to the time.
One can lie, but truth is more interesting.
In marriage there are no manners to keep up, and beneath the wildest accusations no real criticism. Each is familiar with that ancient child in the other who may erupt again. We are not ridiculous to ourselves. We are ageless. That is the luxury of the wedding ring.
The theatre is a gross art, built in sweeps and over-emphasis. Compromise is its second name.
