Magda Szabo Quotes

Everything has to be done properly, even death.

When the sands run out for someone, don't stop them going. You can't give them anything to replace life. Do you think I didn't love Polett? That it meant nothing to me when she'd had enough and wanted out? It's just that, as well as love, you also have to know how to kill. It won't do you any harm to remember that. Ask your God - since you're on such good terms with him - what Polett told him when they finally met.

When that man left her, and then the barber ran off with all the money and the few valuables she had saved up over the years, she didn't swallow caustic soda. She shook herself down as if nothing had happened

Emerence understood nothing of this. She rejected it. Like the leader of some primitive tribe she flew her standard - a sequinned evening dress - against the banner of the Lamb of God. The old woman opposed the church with an almost sixteenth-century fanaticism; not only the priesthood, but God himself and all the biblical characters, with the single exception of Joseph, whom she revered for his occupation: her own father had been a carpenter.

She was lonely. Who isn't lonely, I'd like to know? And that includes people who do have someone but just haven't noticed.

Don't think that when you come with the injection they won't already know what's going to happen. But you needn't feel sorry for a single one. Being put down is more merciful than being cast out and going stray, with all its perils. Feed them full of meat before you finish them off. None of them are used to meat, and if you add a little sedative, you won't even have to chase them.

She didn't stay a word until they reached the edge of the wood, then stopped and looked at him again and spoke very clearly as if she wanted to emphasize every word to him. 'Politics will be my life as long as I live, she said.

He knew it was crazy but at that moment he was sure he would marry her.

We looked after her. But she wanted something else, something more, I don't know what. She didn't even want the kitten, although I would have fed it too. That was the limit. Why did she never stop whining? If someone can't be helped, then they don't want help.

Creativity requires a state of grace. So many things are required for it to succeed.

didn't dare ask where she would stop the machine, and still less, why there. I didn't think she'd tell me anyway.

Writing isn't an easy taskmaster. Sentences left unfinished never continue as well as they had begun. New ideas bend the main arch of the text, and it never again sits perfectly true. Anyway,

Once again her face changed. She was like someone standing in strong sunlight on a mountain top, looking back down the valley from which she had emerged and trembling with the memory still in her bones of the length and nature of the road she had travelled, the glaciers and forded rivers, the weariness and danger, and conscious of how far she still had to go.

How, when she showed no desire to understand, could I explain to her what the act of worship meant to me; or how many unseen presences thronged the pews around me, who down the centuries had all shared my belief and prayed as I did; or how those sixty minutes of service constituted the one hour when I could be sure of communing with my late father and mother?