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Enid Bagnold

  • 'You are like me!' The deepest flattery one creature pays its fellow, the cry which is uttered when another enters 'our country.'

  • Let this serve as an axiom to every lover: A woman who refuses lunch refuses everything.

  • From birth to death we are alone ...

  • Pity is exhaustible. What a terrible discovery!

  • ... one should not listen to what people say, only to what they mean, and she was one of those persons whose minds one must read for oneself, since her words so often deformed her thoughts.

  • ... if death becomes cheap it is the watcher, not the dying, who is poisoned.

  • Isn't the fear of pain next brother to pain itself?

  • His tail ached with wagging, and even his hips waggled as he moved. But under cover of these virtues he was watchful for his benefit, watchful for human weakness, affected, a ready liar, disobedient, boastful, a sucker-up ...

  • Things come suitable to the time.

  • There may be wonder in money, but, dear God, there is money in wonder.

  • Dead news like dead love has no phoenix in its ashes.

  • The Press blew, the public stared, hands flew out like a million little fishes after bread.

  • The dangerous thing about hate is that it seems so reasonable.

  • One never knows when one is old for certain.

  • One's palate is reborn every morning!

  • You will be old-fashioned one day. It's more shocking than getting old.

  • I shall continue to explore — the astonishment of living!

  • One can lie, but truth is more interesting.

  • Marriage. The beginning and the end are wonderful. But the middle part is hell.

  • Sex — the great inequality, the great miscalculator, the great Irritator.

  • But I had been in love pretty often and I didn't think it stood the wear and tear.

  • Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it's the answer to everything. To 'Why am I here?' To uselessness. It's the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it's a cactus.

  • He is dead: I am eighty. There's no arguing with either of us.

  • I am not a born writer, but I was born a writer.

  • After forty years of marriage we still stood with broken swords in our hands.

  • A dog needs God. It lives by your glances, your wishes. It even shares your humor. This happens about the fifth year. If it doesn't happen you are only keeping an animal.

  • ... at sixty-eight, it was very like love. I leave this remark on the page as a gift to women — that the incandescence can appear again in winter like a hibernated moth.

  • Why do birds sing in the morning? It's the triumphant shout: 'We got through another night.'

    • Enid Bagnold
  • An only child is never twelve.

  • Praise is the only thing that brings to life / again a man that's been destroyed.

    • Enid Bagnold,
    • play, The Chalk Garden ()

Enid Bagnold, English playwright, writer

(1889 - 1981)

Full name: Enid Algerine Bagnold, Lady Jones.