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Who in the world remembers who won the 1975 Westchester Classic or the 1978 Western Open? Basically, the majors are the only comparison over time. . . played on the same courses for generations. All the best players are always there.

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Daphne du Maurier

The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.

Ashes, Blood, Dark, Like, Moon, Splash
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I had build up false pictures in my mind and sat before them. I had never had the courage to demand the truth.

Build, Demand, Mind, Sat

Every moment was a precious thing, having in it the essence of finality.

Essence, Moment, Moments, Precious, Precious Things, Thing

Sometimes it’s a sort of indulgence to think the worst of ourselves. We say, ‘Now I have reached the bottom of the pit, now I can fall no further,’ and it is almost a pleasure to wallow in the darkness. The trouble is, it’s not true. There is no end to the evil in ourselves, just as there is no end to the good. It’s a matter of choice. We struggle to climb, or we struggle to fall. The thing is to discover which way we’re going.

Evil, Fall, Good, Struggle, Thinking, Worst

He was like someone sleeping who woke suddenly and found the world. . . all the beauty of it, and the sadness too. The hunger and the thirst. Everything he had never thought about or known was there before him, and magnified into one person who by chance, or fate--call it what you will--happened to be me.

Everything, Fate, Hunger, Sadness, Sleep, Woke

The urge to climb will never be explained. In olden days, perhaps it was a wish to reach the stars. Today, anyone so minded can buy a seat on a plane and feel himself master of the skies. Even so, he will not have rock under his feet, or air upon his face; nor will he know the silence that comes only on the hills.

Air, Feet, Olden, Rocks, Silence, Stars
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