We hope the example of Daphne's family will encourage you to post on this webpage your favourite lines other than the universally well-loved opening to Rebecca. Perhaps you'll be inspired to re-read her books and discover other lines with a special meaning for you.

Virago Press has published almost thirty of Daphne's books in paperback with a delightful hardback edition of Vanishing Cornwall. These have introductions by established authors, some of whom have presented at our Festival and submitted their own favourite lines below.

If you have already REGISTERED as a Member, please use the SUBMIT form to send your favourite lines to us, where they will be reviewed by Ann Willmore.

"Your Favourite Lines" is based on an original idea by Collin Langley.

Christine Faunch
The Loving Spirit

Janet knelt beside the stream, and touched a pale forgotten primrose that grew wistfully near the water's edge. A blackbird called from the branch above her head, and flew away, scattering the white blossom on her hair. The flaming gorse bushes breathed in the sun, filling the air with a rich sweet scent, a medley of honey and fresh dew.
The Loving Spirit, Book 1, Janet Coombe (1830-1863), Ch.1, p.4, Virago (2003).

I love this introduction to Janet Coombe on the day of her wedding to her cousin, Thomas. The spring air is full of anticipation both of the new season and of the new adventure. The beauty and fragility of nature is symbolised in the pale primrose. The flight of the blackbird, scattering blossom onto her hair, juxtaposed with the heady scent of the gorse in the sun, symbolises the conflict between her inner soul's desire to fly away over the hills and the sweet but safe commitment she will make to 'settle down' with a good man and begin the dynasty. It is, of course, the calm before the storms and turmoil which comes later in the book, but it's also the perfect evocation of a spring day. Christine Faunch.

Christine Faunch is curator of the Special Collections archive at the University of Exeter. AW.

Billie Graeme
The Loving Spirit

Joseph felt the longing rise in his heart for Plyn. He wanted to look upon the quiet waters of the harbour, and the little cottages clustered about the hill, with the blue smoke curling from their crooked chimneys. He wanted to feel the cobbled stones of the old slip beneath his feet, where the nets were spread to dry in the sun, and where the blue-jerseyed fishermen leaned against the harbour wall. He wanted to hear the sound of the waves, splashing against the rocks below the Castle ruins, and the rustle of the trees in Truan woods, the movement of sheep and cattle in the hushed fields, the stirring of a rabbit in the high hedges that bordered the twisting lanes. He longed once more for the faces of simple folk, for the white wings of the crying gulls, and the call of the bells from Lanoc Church.
The Loving Spirit, Book 2, Joseph Coombe (1863-1900), Ch.2, p.118, Virago (2003).

The choice of favourite lines was absorbing and time-consuming requiring a rereading of much of Daphne's writing. My final decision is based on her love of the natural things around her at Menabilly and later at Kilmarth. She loved the daily walks through the woods down to the sea and never tired of watching the rhythm of the waves…Perhaps that is when the ideas for the magic of the plots for her writings came to be. Billie Graeme.

Rhythm is a recurring theme: Sheila Hodges, Daphne's former editor, wrote how she became fascinated by the sound of words and rhythm of phrases. CL.

Billie and her late husband Harry Graeme came to live in Fowey in 1948 and opened their photographic business in the old Noah's Ark in Fore Street. Harry died in 1965 but photography continued with painting, Billie's first love, taking a back seat. Billie was joined by Jim Matthews in 1967 who subsequently qualified in Photography. Billie now sells her oil and watercolour paintings and has published books of her paintings and drawings. Billie knew Daphne well and Jim's memorable 1970's photograph of her can be seen in Bookends of Fowey. CL.

Stephen Maddox
The Loving Spirit

He threw back his head and watched her as she stood, white against the sky with a smile on her lips.
'You're an angel tonight,' he said, 'standing at the gates of Heaven before the birth of Christ. It's Christmas, and they're singing the hymn in Lanoc Church.'
'Fifty years or a thousand years, it's all the same,' said Janet. 'Our comin' here together is the proof of it.'
'You'll never leave me again, then?' he asked.
'Never no more.'
He knelt and kissed her footprints in the snow.
'Tell me, is there a God?'
He looked into her eyes and read the truth.
They stood for a minute and gazed at each other, seeing themselves as they never would on earth. She saw a man, bent and worn, with wild unkempt hair and weary eyes; he saw a girl, young and fearless, with the moonlight on her face.
'Good night, my mother, my beauty, my sweet.'
'Good night, my love, my baby, my son.'
Then the mist came between them, and hid them from one another.
The Loving Spirit, Book 1, Ch.5, p.34, Virago (2003).

Stephen Maddox.

Pat Polidor
The Loving Spirit

Placed against the beam is the figurehead of a ship. She leans beyond them all, a little white figure with her hands at her breast, her chin in the air, her eyes gazing towards the sea. High above the clustered houses and the grey harbour waters of Plyn, the loving spirit smiles and is free.
The Loving Spirit, Book 4, Ch.12, p.403/4, Virago (2003).

These favourite lines have really struck a chord within me and have stayed with me throughout the years. They have moved me most for some unknown reason. Years ago, when doing my Strictly Britain tours, when we paused by Ferryside to wait for the ferry, I would read the last few lines of the book to my group, as that always seemed to be the appropriate introduction to Daphne, and Fowey that I always loved.

Somehow she had no wish to go tonight. She did not care to listen to the parson's words, nor to join in singing the hymns with the others, nor even kneel by the altar rail to receive the Blessed Sacrament. She had a mind to slip away in the darkness, and run for the cliff path that overlooked the sea. There'd be a moon over the water, like a path of silver leading away from the black sea to the sky, and she'd be nearer to peace there than on her knees in Lanoc Church. Nearer to something for which there was no name, escaping from the world and losing herself, mingling with things that have no reckoning of time, where there is no today and no tomorrow.
The Loving Spirit, Book 1, Ch.5, p.31, Virago (2003).

Attending services at Llanteglos has always meant a great deal to me; but there have been many times when walking along the coastal paths and have stopped to gaze out to sea that I feel quite in tune with that passage. Also when standing on my little deck at night, with a full moon shining down on Polruan and the harbor....

Janet -- Joseph -- Christopher -- Jennifer, all bound together in some strange and thwarted love for one another, handing down this strain of restlessness and suffering, this intolerable longing for beauty and freedom; all searching for the nameless things, the untrodden ways, but finding peace only in Plyn and in each other; each one torn apart from his beloved by the physical separation of death, yet remaining part of them for ever, bound by countless links that none could break, uniting in one another the living presence of a wise and loving spirit.
The Loving Spirit, Book 4, Ch.9, p.356, Virago (2003).

Pat Polidor (US).

Peter Travell
The Loving Spirit

She longed for Joseph more than ever now, to be with him continually, to forsake him never. She was nearly fifty and she had seen nothing of the world. Her old wild sprit, undaunted and fearless, claimed its rightful place beside Joseph. They were born to share danger and joy together, the sea that held so strong a hold on him, had woven its spell about her too, and though she was a woman and middle-aged she dreamt not of a warm fireside and an easy chair, but of a lifting deck and a straining mast, grey seas beneath a wind-swept sky. There, where the sky and sea mingle, and where no land beckons, she felt her youth and her strength would return to her, but to live without Joseph in Plyn meant a desolation of soul and body, and at times when her weak heart betrayed her failing strength, she felt the supreme courage ebbing from her.
The Loving Spirit, Book 1, Ch.13, p.96/7, Virago (2003).

I picked this passage because I think it captures the soaring strength and deep fragility of the human mind. Peter Travell.