A Quote by Ivy Compton-Burnett

Pushing forty? She's hanging on for dear life. — © Ivy Compton-Burnett
Pushing forty? She's hanging on for dear life.
We decided to have the baby at home because we wanted it to be a natural birth, and it turns out that it was 30 hours of natural. Eight hours of pushing - that's the part that men don't understand. Women go, 'Oh, dear, oh, dear God, eight hours of pushing?' And the men are like, 'Okay, eight hours of pushing.'
Life is a rollercoaster ride and I don't intend on being the one screaming and hanging on for dear life.
Up to forty a woman has only forty springs in her heart. After that age she has only forty winters.
Her thoughts ran away to her girlhood with its passionate longing for adventure and she remembered the arms of men that had held her when adventure was a possible thing for her. Particularly she remembered one who had for a time been her lover and who in the moment of his passion had cried out to her more than a hundred times, saying the same words madly over and over: "You dear! You dear! You lovely dear!" The words, she thought, expressed something she would have liked to have achieved in life.
"Would you, do you, my dear?" rejoined the Captain ... "I don't know. It's difficult navigation. She's very hard to carry on with, my dear. You never can tell how she'll head, you see. She's full one minute, and round upon you next."
So a maiden, whilst she remains untouched, so long is she dear to her own; when she has lost her chaste flower with sullied body, she remains neither lovely to boys nor dear to girls.
I've been going bald since I was about 17. I'm still hanging on to my hair for dear life, but I do sometimes wonder - should I get a wig?
She didn?t know if she could carry on by herself, but then, she realized that if this wasn?t a dream—and dear God, did it feel real—there was no magic ?stop? in real life. If she couldn?t deal with loneliness in a dream, she never would be able to while waking.
I had a constant fascination with the darkside. It is another world, bordering on insanity, and demonic possession, or what I thought was my own Soul Bending personal nirvana. Its good to be back in the middle of the boat, instead of hanging on for dear life in the last life boat.
All this to say: I am forty-three years old. I may yet live another forty. What do I do with those years? How do I fill them without Lexy? When I come to tell the story of my life, there will be a line, creased and blurred and soft with age, where she stops. If I win the lottery, if I father a child, if I lose the use of my legs, it will be after she has finished knowing me. "When I get to Heaven", my grandmother used to say, widowed at thirty-nine, "your grandfather won't even recognize me.
There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear; I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait."
A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
It's fairly easy to know when you've succeeded because you're kind of hanging on for dear life. It's such an unstoppable juggernaut; you're trying to stay with your head above water because things are moving so fast.
To my mom, I don't know how to describe my mom. She is the most wonderful person in my life. She gave me love. She took me to the ballpark when I was just a little boy running around, hanging around.
That's what my mother did. And my father was the first person she'd met who treated her kindly. She was terrified of men, and she married a very meek, kind, dear man. And she had the upper hand. She ruled the roost.
Yes, my dear child, monsters are real. I happen to have one hanging in my basement.
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