Quotes from Catherine Cookson

I can't help it, when the moon is out I must come out too...I am not mad.

Agnes once told me a story about the moon. She said, once its reflection touches the water it turns to gold; but you must never try to steal it, for if you did the night would lose its smile.' And she turned and looked at him as she ended, 'It's the only smile the night has, is the moon.

Cos as me dad always said, fast women and slow horses get you nowhere.

The fellow had said that education had nothing to do with intelligence and that half the so-called educated were numskulls.

She a natural born comic, but she didn't know it. That was her gift, she didn't know it.

It's no good saying one thing and doing another.

Millie: Maggie's funny Maggie: I am that. I am that. And nobody knows better than meself how funny. When the good Lord thought me up He said, "I'll make her nothin' to look at but she'll be good to listen to." Come away with you now an' listen some more.

Waters: And mind your p's and q's. Robert: I know my p's and q's, and the whole alphabet for that matter. you've got no need to tell me how to act, mister.

I remember stating that humour was the poor cousin of wit and at best it was the whetstone on which wit sharpened itself – that one laughs at humour but savours wit.

She was given no immediate answer, she only knew that somewhere a door had opened inside her and that it would be impossible to close it from now on.

What is it?' she cried at herself. 'What is the matter with me? Am I too becoming odd? Is this what spinsterhood does to one?'.....she made for the door her mind seemed to accept the fact that she was entering a new kind of world, the world of spinsterhood, and she saw it as something that had to be faced, lived with, endured. But with the handle of the door gripped in her hand, she looked down at it as she thought bitterly, What a waste of life!

You are so fortunate, aren't you? What troubles you have in life you have picked them up, sort of gathered them to yourself, such as Victoria, and Joe, and Lily and her child. Yet, you needn't have done any of these things, you could have stayed happily in this haven and led the life it suggests, peace and tranquillity

entertaining friends, and using your money to spread largesse, sometimes even in a way that wouldn't touch your emotions.

and at the same time you are so lucky to have this house, this atmosphere. Yes, that's what I mean, atmosphere, in which to hide and heal your sores.

Those last few minutes with him this evening had been a revelation. They weren't words of self-pity, but more like confession of guilt, the guilt of having wasted a life and the pity that there was no second chance. You had one and that was all. He must

the place seemed different without him, bare of personality. Last night she had again confronted herself, and the knowledge that she was letting herself down by even thinking the way she did and had again brought forth the rejoinder: what real harm could there be in thinking because all she would ever have of him were thoughts, She would never give herself away and so who was to know what she thought.

Alice: Well, now it's over and I'll have all the peace I want, and I won't like it. Life's funny isn't it, dear? Robert: Aye, Aunty. Life's funny, it's a twisted thing.

I can be a tolerable friend but a very bad enemy.

And so, now you know why I nearly ate you up the day you landed on the doorstep in the rain. I was lonely. I look back an' I know I've been lonely every day since Willie died. But from the minute you stepped into the kitchen, as I told you, me life seemed to change. Lad, if you walked out the morrow and I never saw you again, the memory of these last few weeks, waitin' for you comin

in at night, seein' you out in the mornin', the memory of that'll last me.' 'Oh, Bertha.' He leant forward

Bertha here, it was different. For him, there was a glowing warmth emanating from this little woman, and, although he couldn't tell her, he knew that for the rest of his life he would feel that wherever she was, he must be near her, at least within visiting distance, and that often.

she had come to realise of late that when one faced oneself, one found some displeasing facets, and one of them was a strong will, which became wilfulness when displayed at Amy's age.

Her stories do not bring in a realism in which

Her stories do not bring in a realism in which the worst is taken for granted, but a realism in which love, caring and compassion appear, and most certainly hope. 'This type of realism does exist,' Tom Cookson said of her writing. There