Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
My imagination is a kind of animal. So what I do is keep it alive.
Your work should be an act of love, not a marriage of convenience.
One impossible day, of an impossible month, of an impossible year.
What we seek is some kind of compensation for what we put up with.
All of us are imperfect human beings living in an imperfect world.
I don't think of myself as an artist. I'm just a guy who can write.
No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.
Some things in life are too complicated to explain in any language.
Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.
Like flowers scattered in a storm, a man's life is a long farewell.
"I believe you," she whispers after a moment. "Please find my mind."
Sheep hurt my father, and through my father, sheep have also hurt me.
You have to wait until tomorrow to find out what tomorrow will bring.
I'm a very ordinary human being; I just happen to like reading books.
That's how people live in the real world: forcing stuff on each other.
It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.
This was never any place I was meant to be. This isn’t a place for me.
My father always told me: 'Give somebody a hand and he'll take an arm.
When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it.
Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting.
I'll write to you. A super-long letter, like in an old-fashioned novel
It's good when food tastes good, it's kind of like proof you're alive.
For some reason all the middle-aged women he knew were very efficient.
What we call the present is given shape by an accumulation of the past.
It's the real world, full of gaps and inconsistencies and anticlimaxes.
Sometimes it's not the people who change, it's the mask that falls off.
One foot in front of the other. Repeat as often as necessary to finish.
In his own way, he's lived life with all the intensity he could muster.
Life's no piece of cake, mind you, but the recipe's my own to fool with.
People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.
In a place far away from anyone or anywhere, I drifted off for a moment.
Even if we could turn back, we'd probably never end up where we started.
Being alive, if you had to define it, meant emitting a variety of smells.
It depends on which reality you take and which reality I take.” (p. 318).
Don't pointless things have a place, too, in this far-from-perfect world?
Most of what I know about writing I've learned through running every day.
You can hide memories, but you can’t erase the history that produced them.
In most cases learning something essential in life requires physical pain.
Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.
I'm a coward when it comes to matters of the heart. That is my fatal flaw.
Time expands, then contracts, all in tune with the stirrings of the heart.
My biggest fault is that the faults I was born with grow bigger each year.
Young people these days don't trust anything at all. They want to be free.
Nobody's easier to fool, than the person who is convinced that he is right.
I am a flawed human being - a far more flawed human being than you realize.
Life might just be an absurd, even crude, chain of events and nothing more.
Another person's life is that person's life. You can't take responsibility.
I am here, alone, at the end of the world. I reach out and touch nothing.”.
Things pass us by. Nobody can catch them. That's the way we live our lives.
The ones with no imagination are always the quickest to justify themselves.