Edith Wharton

I’m currently reading Edith Wharton’s ‘The Age of Innocence’ and keep stumbling upon these amazing passages. This woman was absolutely brilliant (that’s not even a strong enough word really) and it’s a crime that I’ve only just discovered it. Plus, she moved to Paris from New York, just like me, so I feel a great affinity for her. I’m now trying to get my hands on everything she’s ever written (I’ve just finished ‘The House of Mirth’, another doozy).

I always keep a notebook with me to jot down interesting quotes or verses that I come across so I wanted to share a couple:

“He bent and laid his lips on her hands, which were cold and lifeless. She drew them away, and he turned to the door, found his coat and hat under the faint gas-light of the hall, and plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate.”

“Half the width of the room was still between them, and neither made any show of moving… Now his imagination spun about [her] hand as about the edge of a vortex; but still he made no effort to draw nearer. He had known the love that is fed on caresses and feeds them; but this passion that was closer than his bones was not to be superficially satisfied. His one terror was to do anything which might efface the sound and impression of her words; his one thought, that he should never again feel quite alone.”