Previous Quote

Daphne du Maurier Quotes

Next Quote
Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again. - Quote by Daphne du Maurier

If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.

Daphne du Maurier
Copy LinkCopy Link
Copy QuoteCopy Quote
Copy ImageCopy Image
Download Image of QuoteDownload Image

About The Quote

Related Authors

Related Topics

More Quotes From Daphne du Maurier

He could see her planting violets on his grave, a solitary figure in a grey cloak. What a ghastly tragedy. A lump came to his throat. He became quite emotional thinking of his own death. He would have to write a poem about this. --from a Difference in Temperament
Daphne du Maurier
Writers should be read - but neither seen nor heard.
Daphne du Maurier
We can never go back again that much is certain. The past is still too close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again and that sense of fear of furtive unrest... might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion as it had before.
Daphne du Maurier
She could not separate success from peace of mind. The two must go together.
Daphne du Maurier
She could not separate success from peace of mind. The two must go together.
Daphne du Maurier
Happiness is not a possession to be prized it is a quality of thought a state of mind.
Daphne du Maurier
Every moment was a precious thing, having in it the essence of finality.
Daphne du Maurier
As soon as he had disappeared Deborah made for the trees fringing the lawn, and once in the shrouded wood felt herself safe.She walked softly along the alleyway to the pool. The late sun sent shafts of light between the trees and onto the alleyway, and a myriad insects webbed their way in the beams, ascending and descending like angels on Jacob's ladder. But were they insects, wondered Deborah, or particles of dust, or even split fragments of light itself, beaten out and scattered by the sun?It was very quiet. The woods were made for secrecy. They did not recognise her as the garden did. ("The Pool")
Daphne du Maurier
Report Quote Report Quote Report Quote Submit Quote Submit Quote Submit Quote