Radclyffe Hall > Quotes

“What a terrible thing could be freedom. Trees were free when they were uprooted by the wind; ships were free when they were torn from their moorings; men were free when they were cast out of their homes—free to starve, free to perish of cold and hunger.”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness

“Do try to remember this: even the world's not so black as it is painted"
-Valerie to Stephen (pg. 408)”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness

“The world hid its head in the sands of convention, so that by seeing nothing it might avoid Truth. ”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness

“You're neither unnatural, nor abominable, nor mad; you're as much a part of what people call nature as anyone else; only you're unexplained as yet -- you've not got your niche in creation.
~ The Well of Loneliness, 1928 ”
― Radclyffe Hall

“But now, here she was, very wishful to pray, while not knowing how to explain her dilemma: ‘I’m terribly unhappy, dear, unprobable God—’ would not be a very propitious beginning.”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness

“So now Stephen must actually learn at first hand hwo straight can run the path of true love, in direct contradiction to the time-honoured proverb. Must realize more clearly than ever, that love is only permissible to those who are cut in every respect to life's pattern.”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness

“Outrageous...that wilfully selfish tyranny of silence evolved by a crafty old ostrich of a world for its own well-being and comfort.”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness

“But her eyes would look cold, though her voice might be gentle, and her
hand when it fondled would be tentative, unwilling. The hand would be
making an effort to fondle, and Stephen would be conscious of that
effort. Then looking up at the calm, lovely face, Stephen would be filled
with a sudden contrition, with a sudden deep sense of her own
shortcomings; she would long to blurt all this out to her mother, yet
would stand there tongue-tied, saying nothing at all.”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness