So I've started reading Rebecca by Daphne duMaurier, and it's making me feel crazy jealous. The imagery in the first chapter alone is insanely swoon-worthy, mostly because properly formed sentences make me giddy. Seriously, throw a good sentence at me and I'll treat you like a rock star.
This is what it sounds like when the main character describes a pathway in her dream:
"Nature had come into her own again and, little by, little, in her stealthy, insidious way had encroached upon the drive with long tenacious fingers."
And no, I didn't make any punctuation or grammar mistakes when retyping that sentence. I'm totally flushed with jealousy and admiration! Here's another good paragraph:
"The rhododendrons stood fifty feet high, twisted and entwined with bracken, and they had entered into alien marriage with a host of nameless shrubs, poor, bastard things that clung about their roots as though conscious of their spurious origin. A lilac had mated with a copper beach, and to bind them yet more closely to one another the malevolent ivy, always an enemy to grace, had thrown her tendrils about the pair and held them prisoners."
I think writing like this rocks.
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