A word (...) is never the destination, merely a signpost in its general direction; and whatever (...) body that destination finally acquires owes quite as much to the reader as to the writer. - John Fowles
Nine-tenths of all artistic creation derives its basic energy from the engine of repression and sublimation, and well beyond the strict Freudian definition of those terms. attended new College in Oxford. You might like to see my collection of Oxford trees at Rob's Bookshop. - John Fowles
The moon hung over the planet Earth, a dead thing over a dying thing. - John Fowles
I would have gone to bed with him that night. If he had asked. If he had come and kissed me. Not for his sake, but for being alive's. - John Fowles
We talked for hours. He talked and I listened. It was like wind and sunlight. It blew all the cobwebs away. - John Fowles
Death is not in the nature of things; it is the nature of things. But what dies is the form. The matter is immortal. - John Fowles
...and his eyes had that splendid innocence, that opaque blue candour of the satanically fallen. ~ The French Lieutenant’s Woman - John Fowles