She did look pretty—or you co...

She did look pretty—or you could see at least that she had once been pretty, with her wide forehead and cheekbones (they almost punched the skin now, like china doorknobs) and her large greenish eyes and childish translucent teeth and small stubborn chin. - P36

They detested the sight of Enid herself, for her sleepless strength and patient hands and the way the juices of life were so admirably balanced and flowing in her. - P37

Enid was used to that, and she was able to understand the trouble they were in, the trouble of dying and also the trouble of their lives that sometimes overshadowed that. - P37

The smell of it and the discoloration, the malignant-looking little nipples and the pathetic ferretlike teeth. She saw all this as the sign of a willed corruption. - P38

She was sorry for them, even when she remembered how determined they had been to get what they had got. - P38

Mrs. Quinn was a harder case. Mrs. Quinn might crack and crack, but there would be nothing but sullen mischief, nothing but rot inside her. - P38

No patience or gentleness or cheerfulness that Enid could summon would keep Mrs. Quinn from knowing. And Mrs. Quinn made knowing it her triumph. Good riddance to bad rubbish. - P38

The girls in this group were dropping like flies, as they said of each other—they were dropping into matrimony. - P41

So, quickly and easily, still in her youth, she was slipping into this essential, central, yet isolated role. - P41

Her hope was to be good, and do good, and not necessarily in the orderly, customary, wifely way. - P41

The man who danced with her most often, and escorted her home, and pressed her hand good night, was the manager of the creamery—a man in his forties, never married, an excellent dancer, an avuncular friend to girls unlikely to find partners. No woman ever took him seriously. - P41

it looked as if her responsibilities might dwindle away to the care of those who had bizarre and hopeless afflictions, or were so irredeemably cranky that hospitals had thrown them out. - P44

And whatever troubled him and showed in his face might have been just the same old trouble—the problem of occupying space in the world and having a name that people could call you by, being somebody they thought they could know. - P47

You couldn’t say that they had chosen the wrong lives or chosen against their will or not understood their choices. Just that they had not understood how time would pass and leave them not more but maybe a little less than what they used to be. - P48

His jokey gallantry that made the nerves of her teeth ache, as from too much sugar. - P50

She was a little bird-boned w...

She was a little bird-boned woman, queerly shaped now, with her swollen abdomen and limbs and her breasts shrunk to tiny pouches with dried-currant nipples. - P35

Sick people grew to resent well people, and sometimes that was true of husbands and wives, or even of mothers and their children. - P36

[오늘의 한문장] The Love of a Good Woman: Stories (Winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature)

Enid’s mother called "potato Irish." But behind Rupert’s good-humored expression there was wariness and withholding. - P32

Cece, who was the quietest of...

Cece, who was the quietest of the three—as Jimmy was the politest and Bud the mouthiest—was the one who turned everything around. "Your fly’s undone," he said. Then they all whooped and ran away. - P29

THEIR elation did not vanish right away. But it was not something that could be shared or spoken about: they had to pull apart. - P29

"The word was not in his vocabulary," said Mrs. Willens. - P30

By that time nobody thought of what it referred to. - P30

The forsythia shook, not with...

The forsythia shook, not with the wind, and out came a stooped brown figure. - P22

What they had been gawking at was not the forsythia but the whole scene—the house looking just as usual, the sign by the office door, the curtains letting light in. Nothing hollow or ominous, nothing that said that Mr. Willens was not inside and that his car was not in the garage behind his office but in Jutland Pond. And Mrs. Willens out working in her yard, where anybody would expect her to be—everybody in town said so—the minute the snow was melted. - P23

Her obligingness turned from meek to pert. - P26