New York Times bestseller where history and fiction merge seamlessly in Tracy Chevalier's luminous novel about artistic vision and sensual awakening. Through the eyes of sixteen-year-old Griet, the world of 1660s Holland comes dazzlingly alive in this richly imagined portrait of the young... read more
History and fiction merge seamlessly in Chevalier's luminous novel about artistic vision and sensual awakening. Through the eyes of 16-year-old Griet, the world of 1660s Holland comes alive in this richly imagined portrait of the young woman who inspired one of Vermeer's most celebrated... read more (warning: may contain spoilers)
“Only children and thieves run.”
A painting in a church is like a candle in a dark room—we use it to see better. It is the bridge between ourselves and God. But it is not a Protestant candle or a Catholic candle. It is simply a candle.”Highlighted by 41 Kindle customers
“I had not thought I would learn something from a maid,” he said at last.Highlighted by 29 Kindle customers
Now that he had seen my hair, now that he had seen me revealed, I no longer felt I had something precious to hide and keep to myself. I could be freer, if not with him, then with someone else. It no longer mattered what I did and did not do.Highlighted by 27 Kindle customers
Paintings may serve a spiritual purpose for Catholics, but remember too that Protestants see God everywhere, in everything. By painting everyday things—tables and chairs, bowls and pitchers, soldiers and maids—are they not celebrating God’s creation as well?”Highlighted by 27 Kindle customers
I preferred to think of him alone in his studio. Or not alone, but with only me.Highlighted by 25 Kindle customers
Pieter would be pleased with the rest of the coins, the debt now settled. I would not have cost him anything. A maid came free.Highlighted by 18 Kindle customers
As I turned to go I caught the glance that passed between father and son. Even then I knew somehow what it meant, and what it would mean for me.Highlighted by 17 Kindle customers
Cornelia had not known when she broke the tile of Frans and me that she would come to be right—that he would split from me and from the family. Will I ever see him again? I thought. And what will our parents say? I felt more alone than ever.Highlighted by 17 Kindle customers
Later I discovered they were all by other painters—he rarely kept his own finished paintings in the house. He was an art dealer as well as an artist, and paintings hung in almost every room, even where I slept. There were more than fifty in all, though the number varied over time as he traded and sold them.Highlighted by 17 Kindle customers
It was another picture of Christ on the Cross, smaller than the one upstairs but even more disturbing. Christ had thrown his head back in pain, and Mary Magdalene’s eyes were rolling. I Iay back gingerly, unable to take my eyes off it. I could not imagine sleeping in the room with the painting.Highlighted by 14 Kindle customers
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Preceded by Where the Red Fern Grows, and followed by The Color Purple.
Preceded by The Color Purple, and followed by The Unbearable Lightness of Being.
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