A familiar name on its own, however, does not carry its bearer far unless the talent is there, and the will to work.

— Daphne du Maurier

And oh, heaven - the crowded playhouse, the stench of perfume upon heated bodies, the silly laughter and the clatter, the party in the Royal box - the King himself present - the impatient crowd in the cheap seats stamping and shouting for the play to begin while they threw orange peel on to the stage.

— Daphne du Maurier

...are you happy?"" I am content."" What is the difference?"" Between happiness and contentment? Ah, there you have me. It is not easy to put into words. Contentment is a state of mind and body when the two work in harmony, and there is no friction. The mind is at peace, and the body also. The two are sufficient to themselves. Happiness is elusive--coming perhaps once in a life-time--and approaching ecstasy."" Not a continuous thing, like contentment?"" No, not a continuous thing. But there are, after all, degrees of happiness.

— Daphne du Maurier

As soon as he had disappeared Deborah made for the trees fringing the lawn, and once in the shrouded wood felt herself safe. She walked softly along the alleyway to the pool. The late sun sent shafts of light between the trees and onto the alleyway, and a myriad insects webbed their way in the beams, ascending and descending like angels on Jacob's ladder. But were they insects, wondered Deborah, or particles of dust, or even split fragments of light itself, beaten out and scattered by the sun? It was very quiet. The woods were made for secrecy. They did not recognize her as the garden did. ("The Pool")

— Daphne du Maurier

...as the slow sea sucked at the shore and then withdrew, leaving the strip of seaweed bare and the shingle churned, the seabirds raced and ran upon the beaches. Then that same impulse to flight seized upon them too. Crying, whistling, calling, they skimmed the placid sea and left the shore. Make haste, make speed, hurry and begone; yet where, and to what purpose? The restless urge of autumn, unsatisfying, sad, had put a spell upon them, and they must flock, and wheel, and cry; they must spill themselves of motion before winter came.

— Daphne du Maurier

A woman of feeling does not easily give way. You may call it pride, or tenacity, call it what you will. In spite of all the evidence to the contrary, their emotions are more primitive than ours. They hold to the thing they want, and never surrender. We have our wars and battles, Mr. Asha. But women can fight too.

— Daphne du Maurier

Because I believe there is nothing so self-destroying, and no emotion quite so despicable, as jealousy.

— Daphne du Maurier

- because just by hating it’s possible to be purified from love, just with the sword, with the fire.

— Daphne du Maurier

Boredom is a pleasing antidote for fear

— Daphne du Maurier

But a lonely man is an unnatural man, and soon comes to perplexity. From perplexity to fantasy. From fantasy to madness.

— Daphne du Maurier