Quotes from Judith Ivory

Yey more and more there seemed a bevy of things she was not supposed to think about and by virtue of trying not to, she hardly thought of anything else.

The ferret didn't matter. Because there was something about Mick that wasn't a fake anything. And Winnie herself felt more real somehow, running around, looking for the little animal that meant so much to him.

You're brave. You're good. Why would you hesitate to explore yourself? Your dark nooks and crannies? With someone who is fascinated by the whole of you? You aren't a bad woman, merely a human one, which entails a certain amount of"—he cocked his head—"'awfulness,' as you call it.

The sensation wasn't repellent, though she had believed somewhere it would be. Someone had left her with that impression, but, whoever they were, they were wrong. It was ... mesmerizing. She could sense the length of him against her buttocks as well as a kind of heaviness, a substantive presence. He was changing right there under her, growing longer and thicker, information she acquired through the unlikely source of her bum, while he kissed her mouth.

When she wasn't being stiff-necked, she was the friend he most wanted to talk to, who he couldn't wait to see each day. She came into his mind with the first ray of consciousness at daybreak. He nodded off, smiling over her with his last, heavy-eyed blink before sleep. Sweet Win. Funny Win. Clever Win. Frightened, brave, careful, meticulous Winnie, trying to avoid the bite of the world by pretending it didn't have teeth.

I can't protect you from mean people, because they're everywhere, but I would be nice. That much, I can promise." "Fine," she said. "If I"m pregnant, you can marry me." He folded his harms and contemplated her motionlessly from the dark. Then said, "Not that nice.

A harem," she murmured into his neck and laughed at last at the notion. "I can't believe you had a harem. You are hilarious, Stuart." He laughed. At himself. "I hated men. I loved women. I wanted them all. It seemed logical to start to accumulate them.

She went about that afternoon looking under sheep like a pervert, happy with all the dark, purple-pink tissue at their hindquarters. New lambs in the spring.

But you are lucky. You are going to live. The one ball that might have killed you just pushed your intestines aside - like a marble dropped into a bowl of spaghetti.

Everyone grew still, exactly as she'd asked. The little thing skittered around feet, visible one moment, lost the next. A man near Mick - the very man who was part of the couple who'd been at Abernathy and Freigh's when the ferret had gotten loose six weeks ago - said, 'Oh, I hope you can get her. My pet monkey ran out of the house last month, and we never found him. I've been distraught ever since.

The most consistent thing about Graham Wessit was his attitude of open experiment. Can you even imagine , she asked herself, plain, quiet, intellectual little you spending a lifetime on the arm of such a havoc-producing man?

A man in cahoots with a woman's sexual instinct was the devil himself, for he had the united power over her—himself and her own longing—greater than a mere man

She shook her head, glued now to the sight. He felt exhilarated, seeing her there, her expression amused, absorbed. Oh, he wanted to charm her. He wanted to woo her, make her stay. He just wasn't sure how to do it. …Mick knew Win wasn't listening as he told her about the dog; he was barely listening to himself. He wanted to say, Don't go. Just stay. Stay and keep looking at me like that. He rattled on instead.

Any woman who can make you happy has all the information she needs to make you miserable if she wants to.

She was strong, Winnie Bollash. As strong a woman as he knew. Capable-like. And the most vulnerable creature he'd ever met.

You had no right." Oh, yes, he did. He suggested, "Why don't you write that down. Put it in my handwriting. Perhaps I'll chance to read it, think I wrote it: Maybe then I'll believe you.

She could sense the length of him against her buttocks as well as a kind of heaviness, a substantive presence. He was changing right there under her, growing longer and thicker, information she acquired through the unlikely source of her bum, while he kissed her mouth. Heavens, what a sensation.

She be a smart woman, ain't she? Yes, sir. I shouldn't have made such a fuss. I can get in some water. Just like that, he admitted he was wrong. What an amazing conversation. (hardback, large print, page 76)

Oh, Stuart. You think you can do anything. It's one of your great charms, but it's also one of your most aggravating qualities when you think you can move unmovable mountains.

He looked for gestures, afraid of words

She mourned what every human being mourns in the first moments of full adulthood—that even inside a friend's arms one can be totally, absolutely alone.

She sang to the moon. Or to plants or something out here. She wouldn't sing to him, even though he'd invited her to. He didn't think he would ever see anything more tender or sad than the way she told her problems to no one, to leaves. And he couldn't think of anything more brave than carrying on anyway with such a load. She was strong, Winnie Bollash. As strong a woman as he knew. Capable-like. And the most vulnerable creature he'd ever met.

Graham, with his strong ability to maintain and voice his differences, was the bravest bid she could make to stay tolerant, open to life's diversity, and honest with herself.

What irony. This great ship that carried all their fates upon her steel and rivets sailed like a compeer under him, half-blind with a limp.