Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
there are two types of people in the world: those who prefer to be sad among others, and those who prefer to be sad alone.
At night the sky is pure astronomy.
There's no match for the silence of GOD.
Better to try and fail than not to try at all
Part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you.
The truth is the thing I invented so I could live.
Loneliness: there is no organ that can take it all.
All I want is not to die on a day when I went unseen.
lonely people are always up in the middle of the night.
Even among the angels, there is the sadness of division.
When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?
...The plural of elf is elves! What a language! What a world!
He died alone because he was too embarrassed to phone anyone.
...after all, who isn't a survivor from the wreck of childhood?
There are so many ways to be alive, but only one way to be dead.
After all who doesn't wish to make a spectacle of their loneliness
I know there is a moral to this story, but I don't know what it is.
Empty teacups gathered around her and dictionary pages fell at her feet.
He learned to live with the truth. Not to accept it, but to live with it.
It's strange what the heart can do when the mind is giving the directions.
The malpractice for advice-giving is like five times as much as a craniotomy.
The price we paid for the volumes of ourselves that we suffocated in the dark.
Because you can get free of everything except the space where things have been
In life we sit at the table and refuse to eat, and in death we are eternally hungry.
...larger than life...I've never understood that expression. What's larger than life?
Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together.
Perhaps that is what it means to be a father - to teach your child to live without you.
If it weren't for her, there would never have been an empty space, or the need to fill it.
It is impossible to distrust one's writing without awakening a deeper distrust in oneself.
I scowled at the world. And the world scowled back. We were locked in a stare of mutual disgust.
I've reached the age where bruises are formed from failures within rather than accidents without.
And so he did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life: he picked up his hat and walked away.
There was no one to call me to bed, no one to demand that the rhythms of my life operate in a duet.
...we take comfort in the symmetries we find in life because they suggest a design where there is none.
To me, this is the singular privilege of reading literature: we are allowed to step into another's life.
I have realised just how important it is to readers to feel that fictional stories are based on reality.
One is always changing. I don't want to write the same book and I couldn't, because I'm a different person.
The accolades, just like the scrapes and bruises, fade in the end, and all you're left with is your ambition.
The unique thing that literature provides is to be able to step so fully into another situation and condition.
The moment had passed, the door between the lives we could have led and the lives we led had shut in our faces.
I think of novels as houses. You live in them over the course of a long period, both as a reader and as a writer.
I have always written about characters who fall somewhere in the spectrum between solitary and totally alienated.
She was gone, and all that was left was the space where you'd grown around her, like a tree that grows around a fence.
I read differently now, more painstakingly, knowing I am probably revisiting the books I love for the last time. (245)
Wittgenstein once wrote that when the eye sees something beautiful, the hand wants to draw it. I wish I could draw you.
The idea that we've outgrown ends up limiting us and we have to make a choice about what we're going to do in our lives.
I'm very interested in structure, how multiple stories are assembled in different ways; that is what memory does as well.
Life in general in my experience gets deeper and deeper, more and more profound, more and more complex, the older one gets.
I take almost no notes when I write. I have one notebook - this old green leather notebook that my dad gave me a decade ago.
You can't imagine how hard I am on myself. Nothing pummels me like my own doubts, the feeling of how far I still have to go.
