Maria Dermoût

“Felicia had never seen such beads before, neither of glass nor of metal, not of jade either, she thought; of stone or baked clay, rather, opaque, in mysteriously tender and quenched colors: orange ocher, golden brown, some touched with black; so subdued of hue - melancholy almost, as if there was something of autumn in that little box woven from leaves, something of passing and dying.”
― Maria Dermoût, The Ten Thousand Things

“A day in the radiant sunlight and the sky's blue, in the shadow of a proud dark sail, over rustling waves, along new coastlines, wouldn't that help to get past sadness? for a while, for that one day at least.”
― Maria Dermoût, The Ten Thousand Things