The Thorn Birds

by Colleen McCullough

Inside this stupid body I’m still young — I

still feel, I still want, I still dream, I still kick up my heels and chafe at restrictions like my body.

She had grown used to hiding what she felt, to appearing always calm and outwardly happy. Self-control was growing around her thicker than bark on a tree,

his German heritage was clearly on him: the beefy red complexion not able to cope with beer and sun combined, the square grey head, the pale-blue Baltic eyes.

many griefs and much pain during our progress to eternal life.

For the first time in her life she wasn’t keeping her conscious self absorbed in work thoughts of one description or another. Surprised, she realized that keeping physically busy is the most effective blockade against totally mental activity human beings can erect.

Off after some male thing with never the time or the inclination to put a woman ahead of it, running and clutching at some dream which probably only existed in his addled head.

he would spend himself and his life in chasing it.

when he looked into her eyes, there like the pool of light in a sanctuary lamp shone

the pain she had gone through, spiritual more than physical.

the pride of a priest of my kind; like Lucifer I aspired to that which is God’s alone, and like Lucifer, I fell.

Until you can leave the matter of forgiveness to God, you will not have acquired true humility.”