Mathilde Quotes & Sayings

I live monastically, Mathilde said, meaning, of course, more. — Lauren Groff

You say that as if he's sick," Mathilde said. "He is. Great American Artistitis, — Lauren Groff

Mathilde and Lotto held hands in the taxi going to brunch, communicating, not speaking. — Lauren Groff

Rachel's face was still looking at Mathilde from the dark when she went back upstairs. The marital suite, the bed obscene in its empty enormity. In her absence, the sheets had been changed. When she climbed in again, they were cool and smelled like lavender and brushed her skin like accusations. — Lauren Groff

Not liberty but duty is the condition of existence. — Mathilde Blind

Mathilde let him eat two doughnuts, and his eyes filled with tears because they were the most amazing doughnuts in the history of glazed doughnuts, food of the gods. He was full of joy. — Lauren Groff

They had been married for seventeen years; she lived in the deepest room in his heart. And sometimes that meant that wife occurred to him before Mathilde, helpmeet before herself. Abstraction of her before the visceral being. But not now. When she came across the veranda, he saw Mathilde all of a sudden. The dark whip at the center of her. How, so gently, she flicked it and kept him spinning. — Lauren Groff

Ghost Helper: from around 6 p.m. most evenings, and weekends from 11 a.m. I will do all I can to help free your soul. x Mathilde x I often have to organise a queue before I get started to help them all. So many! — L.P. Donnelli

Mathilde was there in the dawn, this perfect girl as if made to his specifications. [A different life, had Lotto listened to the terror: no glory, no plays; peace, ease, and money. No glamour; children. Which life was better? Not for us to say.] — Lauren Groff

Mathilde had always been a fist, in truth. Only with Lotto had she been an open hand. — Lauren Groff

He asked if she sold luminous flowers that he had heard about, flowers which shone in the dark. He wanted them, he said, for a woman who shone in the dark. He could swear that when he took her to the theater and she sat back in the dark in her evening dress, her skin was as luminous as the finest sea shell, with a pale pink glow to it. And he wanted these flowers for her to wear in her hair. Mathilde did not have them. But as soon as the man left she went to look at herself in the mirror. This was the kind of feeling she wanted to inspire. Could she? — Anais Nin

And besides, his Cyn was coming for him. Dear Mathilde was about to learn just how lethal one human female could be. — D.B. Reynolds

Perhaps, Mathilde thought, watching flakes fall into dark and the empty street, I've been wrong. Perhaps the mother had watched her daughter fail and fail and didn't move to help out of something unfathomable, something Mathilde struggled to understand, a thing that was like an immense kind of love. — Lauren Groff

Her mother had smelled of cold and scales, her father of stone dust and dog. She imagined her husband's mother, whom she had never met, had a whiff of rotting apples, though her stationary had stunk of baby powder and rose perfume. Sally was starch, cedar, her dead grandmother sandalwood, her uncle, swiss cheese. People told her she smelled like garlic, like chalk, like nothing at all. Lotto, clean as camphor at his neck and belly, like electrified pennies at the armpit, like chlorine at the groin. She swallowed. Such things, details noticed only on the edges of thought would not return.
'Land,' Mathilde said, 'odd name for a guy like you.'
'Short for Roland,' the boy said.
Where the August sun had been steaming over the river, a green cloud was forming. It was still terrifically hot, but the birds had stopped singing. A feral cat scooted up the road on swift paws. It would rain soon.
'Alright Roland,' Mathilde said, suppressing as sigh, 'sing your song. — Lauren Groff

This was the bad version. This version was what later events told her had happened. It was as real as the other. They played simultaneously in a loop, yet Mathilde could never quite believe it. That twitch of a leg, a later insertion, surely. She could not believe, and yet something in her did believe, and this contradiction that she held within her became the source of everything. All that remained were the facts. Before it all happened she had been so beloved, afterward, love had been withdrawn. And she had pushed or she hadn't, the result had been all the same. There had been no forgiveness for her, but she had been so very young. How could parents do this? How could she not have been forgiven? — Lauren Groff

You can't hate me, Mathilde, when I say no. This is my work. — Lauren Groff

My mother's advertising firm specialized in women's accessories. All day long, under the agitated and slightly vicious eye of Mathilde, she supervised photo shoots where crystal earrings glistened on drifts of fake holiday snow, and crocodile handbags-unattended, in the back seats of deserted limousines-glowed in coronas of celestial light. She was good at what she did; she preferred working behind the camera rather than in front of it; and I knew she got a kick out of seeing her work on subway posters and on billboards in Times Square. But despite the gloss and sparkle of the job (champagne breakfasts, gift bags from Bergdorf's) the hours were long and there was a hollowness at the heart of it that-I knew-made her sad. — Donna Tartt

War rages on the teeming earth;
The hot and sanguinary fight
Begins with each new creature's birth:
A dreadful war where might is right;
Where still the strongest slay and win,
Where weakness is the only sin. — Mathilde Blind

My sister Mathilde is an actress, but more like a French Jennifer Aniston. She's famous just in France. She's very commercial and does big comedies. So, acting was part of my family, and that's how I was raised. — Emmanuelle Seigner

[Complex, our Mathilde; she can bear contradictions.] — Lauren Groff

I believe that God in every human-being, is expressing a divine idea, and a different in each. — Mathilde Fibiger

I'm tired. Dead tired. So tired I can barely stay awake to write this. After helping Mr Bircher search for his head all night, I'm a little annoyed too. Dad doesn't help. He doesn't know what it's like for a girl my age, trying to fit in at school as much as possible, and trying to fit in all the dead people. It's not easy being a soul helper. — L.P. Donnelli

The April rain, the April rain,
Comes slanting down in fitful showers,
Then from the furrow shoots the grain,
And banks are fledged with nestling flowers;
And in grey shawl and woodland bowers
The cuckoo through the April rain
Calls once again. — Mathilde Blind

Great swaths of her life were white space to her husband. What she did not tell him balanced neatly with what she did. Still, there are untruths made of words and untruths made of silences, and Mathilde had only ever lied to Lotto in what she never said. — Lauren Groff

Oh, Lotto, Mathilde thought with loving despair. Like most deadly attractive people, he had a hollow at the center of him. What people loved most about her husband was how mellifluous their own voices sounded when they echoed back. Mathilde — Lauren Groff

I think being condemned to death is the only real distinction," said Mathilde. "It is the only thing which cannot be bought. — Stendhal

and Mathilde still had — Donna Tartt

He'd woken up to the absence of Mathilde in the bed, grief in the coolness where her heat should have been. — Lauren Groff

Like the Baron, Mathilde developed a formula for acting out life as a series of roles - that is, by saying to herself in the morning while brushing her blond hair, "Today I want to become this or that person," and then proceeding to be that person.
One day she decided she would like to be an elegant representative of a well-known Parisian modiste and go to Peru. All she had to do was to act the role. So she dressed with care, presented herself with extraordinary assurance at the house of the modiste, was engaged to be her representative and given a boat ticket to Lima.
Aboard ship, she behaved like a French missionary of elegance. Her innate talent for recognizing good wines, good perfumes, good dressmaking, marked her as a lady of refinement. — Anais Nin

Mathilde returned and strolled past the drawing-room windows; she saw him busily engaged in describing to Madame de Fervaques the old ruined castles that crown the steep banks of the Rhine and give them so distinctive a character. He was beginning to acquit himself none too badly in the use of the sentimental and picturesque language which is called wit in certain drawing-rooms. — Stendhal

If you miss one class, you know it; if you miss two classes, your teacher knows it, and if you miss three classes, the audience knows it — Mathilde Kschessinska

Life grows lovely where you are. — Mathilde Blind

Oh. That's because I've stopped smiling," Mathilde said. "For so many years, I never let anyone see me without smiling. I don't know why I didn't stop earlier. It's enormously relaxing. — Lauren Groff

Mathilde made an effort to use the more intimate form; she was evidently more attentive to this unusual way of speaking than to what she was saying. This use of the singular form, stripped of the tone of affection, ceased, after a moment, to afford Julien any pleasure, he was astonished at the absence of happiness; finally, in order to feel it, he had recourse to his reason. He saw himself highly esteemed by this girl who was so proud, and never bestowed unrestricted praise; by this line of reasoning he arrived at a gratification of his self-esteem. — Stendhal

We have all had stupid youths,' said Mathilde. 'I find them delicious. — Lauren Groff

The house echoed, empty. Mathilde had been liberated. She had nothing to worry about now. — Lauren Groff

But please, Mathilde knew lions. The male lolled beautifully, lazy in the sun. The female, less lovely by miles, was the one who brought back the kill. — Lauren Groff

She never expected gross perfidy from the meek and mild." Mathilde saw her own face reflected in the window, but no, it was a barn owl on a low branch in the cherry trees. She could barely master herself. She had never expected this. These women. Such kindness. Their eyes shining in the dim room. They saw her. She didn't know why, but they saw her and they loved her even still. "There's — Lauren Groff

The key for me is keeping it simple, with an emphasis on the best skincare rather than makeup. — Mathilde Thomas

Mathilde saw her own face reflected in the window, but no, it was a barn owl on a low branch in the cherry trees. She could barely master herself. She had never expected this. These women, such kindness, their eyes shining in the dim room. They saw her. She didn't know why, but they saw her, and they loved her even still. — Lauren Groff

What was this mania for universal adoration? Mathilde knew herself unworthy of the love of a single soul, and he wanted the love of everyone. — Lauren Groff