Mark

“But it was almost over, after all, her life. It swelled behind her like a sardine fishing net, all sorts of useless seaweed and broken bits of shells and the tiny, shining fish—all those hundreds of students she had taught, the girls and boys in high school she had passed in the corridor when she was a high school girl herself (many—most—would be dead by now), the billion streaks of emotion she’d had as she’d looked at sunrises, sunsets, the different hands of waitresses who had placed before her cups of coffee— All of it gone, or about to go.”
― Elizabeth Strout, Olive, Again

“As Guy passed a member who greeted him another turned and asked : “Who was that ? Someone new isn’t it?”

‘No, he’s belonged for ages. You’ll never guess who he is. Virginia Troy’s first husband.’

‘Really? I thought she was married to Tommy Blackhouse.’

‘This chap was before Tommy. Can’t remember his name. I think he lives in Kenya. Tommy took her from him, then Gussie had her for a bit, then Bert Troy picked her up when she was going spare.”
― Evelyn Waugh, Men at Arms

“In a library in a staid South Coast resort of retirees ”
― Elizabeth Bowen, The Death of the Heart

“Her son had married his mother, as all men—in some form or other—eventually do.”
― Elizabeth Strout, Olive, Again