Jacob's Room Quotes
"Slowly welling from the point of her gold nib, pale blue ink dissolved the full stop; for there her pen stuck; her eyes fixed, and tears slowly filled them."
"The entire bay quivered; the lighthouse wobbled; and she had the illusion that the mast of Mr. Connor’s little yacht was bending like a wax candle in the sun."
"Tears made all the dahlias in her garden undulate in red waves and flashed the glass house in her eyes, and spangled the kitchen with bright knives."
"Marriage is a fortress and widows stray solitary in the open fields, picking up stones, gleaning a few golden straws, lonely, unprotected, poor creatures."
"The voice had an extraordinary sadness. Pure from all body, pure from all passion, going out into the world, solitary, unanswered, breaking against rocks - so it sounded."
"A rooster had been known to fly on her shoulder and peck her neck, so that now she carried a stick or took one of the children with her when she went to feed the fowls."
"What sculptured faces, what certainty, authority controlled by piety, although great boots march under the gowns."
"The wise old woman, having fixed her eyes upon the sea, once more withdrew."
"The world being stable, lit by candlelight, the dinner jacket alone preserved him."
"Like oars rowing now this side, now that, were the sentences that came now here, now there, from either side of the table."
"Oh, mother! I didn’t recognize you!" exclaimed Clara Durrant, coming from the opposite direction with Elsbeth. "How delicious," she breathed, crushing a verbena leaf.
"Every day I live I find myself agreeing …" he said as he passed them.
"It’s so interesting to guess …" murmured Julia Eliot.
"She must have been so beautiful, and everybody loved her, of course," said Charlotte.
"Edward’s death was a tragedy," said Miss Eliot decidedly.
"There’s no such thing as silence," he said positively. "I can hear twenty different sounds on a night like this without counting your voices."
"Doesn’t it make you melancholy—looking at the stars?" shouted Miss Eliot.
"Yes; he is perfectly right," said Mrs. Durrant, drawing herself up and ceasing to wind her wool.
"I want to hear about your voyage," said Mrs. Durrant.
"How I love you!" said Elsbeth, kneeling beside Mrs. Durrant’s chair.
"One bunch of white, and two of purple," she said, and she placed two great leaves over them where they lay curled warm in the basket.
"Goodbye," said Jacob. "Goodbye," he repeated. "Goodbye," he said once more.
"I rather think," said Jacob, taking his pipe from his mouth, "it’s in Virgil," and pushing back his chair, he went to the window.
"Long ago great people lived here," mused the narrator, reflecting on the history of Southampton Row.
"Life is wicked—life is detestable!" cried Rose Shaw.
"I like Jacob Flanders," wrote Clara Durrant in her diary. "He is so unworldly. He gives himself no airs, and one can say what one likes to him."
"Now let us talk," said Jacob, as he walked down Haverstock Hill between four and five o’clock in the morning, "about something sensible."
"The truth is one ought to have been taught French," Jacob pondered, reflecting on his education.
"My old friend looks as well as ever," said Mr. Benson, tapping the bars of the parrot’s cage.
"Are you going away for Christmas?" said Mr. Calthorp.
"Who is that driving by?" she asked Boxall, the butler.
"But what proof was there that the marriage service was actually performed?" said Mr. Crosby.
"Going about as girls do nowadays—" said Mrs. Forster.
"Look at Jacob," said Helen, noticing Jacob in the crowd.
"You’re like one of those statues," Florinda said to Jacob, admiringly.
"I’m awfully happy since I’ve known you, Jacob. You’re such a good man," Florinda expressed to Jacob.
"Life is wicked—life is detestable," cried Rose Shaw, overwhelmed by emotion.
"Probably," said Jacob, "we are the only people in the world who know what the Greeks meant."
"Please," said Julia Eliot, "don’t introduce me. I like to look on."
"Ah," sighed Clara, moved by the music at the party.
"Are you fond of music?" Mrs. Durrant asked Jacob.
"This weather makes me long for the country," Laurette confided, gazing out of the window.
"The magnificent world—the live, sane, vigorous world," the narrator observed, describing the vibrant atmosphere of London.
"Running away so soon?" Miss Perry asked Jacob, disappointed by his early departure.
"What different people one sees here!" exclaimed Julia Eliot at the party.
"Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling. To her let us garlands bring," sang Elsbeth Siddons, captivating the audience.
"You and Mr. Bowley are talking dreadful gossip, I know," Clara accused Helen and Mr. Bowley at the party.
"Women like it," Jacob commented on people's fondness for parties.
"Who is Silvia? what is she? That all our swains commend her?" sang Elsbeth Siddons, enchanting the guests.
"Bright yet vague. She is perhaps twenty-two. She is shabby," the narrator described a young woman pondering at a florist's window.
"Ah, what’s the use of saying it?" the narrator questioned, contemplating the futility of words amidst the bustling city.
"Any day this week except Thursday," wrote Miss Perry, inviting Jacob to visit.
"Your mother is one of my oldest friends," Miss Perry told Jacob, reminiscing about their shared past.
"Book learning does it," Mrs. Papworth thought to herself, observing the young gentlemen's intellectual conversation.
"Tomorrow’s breakfast, sir," Mrs. Papworth announced, interrupting the heated debate between the young men.
"The light from the arc lamp drenched him from head to toe," described the narrator, capturing a moment in Jacob's life.
"Who is that?" Julia Hedge inquired, curious about the young men in the room.
"Objective something," Jacob tried to articulate his thoughts during the debate.
"It’s not exactly that I don’t understand them," Laurette explained to Jacob, discussing her challenges.
"I must go and try again," Laurette determinedly concluded her conversation with Jacob.
"Oh, mother! I didn’t recognize you!" exclaimed Clara Durrant.
"Yes; he is perfectly right," said Mrs. Durrant.
"One bunch of white, and two of purple," she said, placing two great leaves over them where they lay curled warm in the basket.
"I rather think," said Jacob, "it’s in Virgil."
"Long ago great people lived here," mused the narrator.
"I like Jacob Flanders," wrote Clara Durrant. "He is so unworldly."
"Now let us talk," said Jacob, "about something sensible."
"My old friend looks as well as ever," said Mr. Benson.
"You’re like one of those statues," Florinda said to Jacob.
"Running away so soon?" Miss Perry asked Jacob.
"What different people one sees here!" exclaimed Julia Eliot.
"Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling," sang Elsbeth Siddons.
"Ah, what’s the use of saying it?" the narrator questioned.
"Any day this week except Thursday," wrote Miss Perry.
"Book learning does it," Mrs. Papworth thought.
"Tomorrow’s breakfast, sir," Mrs. Papworth announced.
"Objective something," Jacob tried to articulate.
"I must go and try again," Laurette determinedly concluded.