All good novelists have bad memories. What you remember comes out as journalism; what you forget goes into the compost of the imagination.
All good novelists have bad memories.
I had very good dentures once. Some magnificent gold work. It's the only form of jewelry a man can wear that women fully appreciate.
It is the earliest dream that I can remember, earlier than the witch at the corner of the nursery passage, this dream of something outside that has got to come in. The witch, like the masked dancers, has form, but this is simply power, a force exerted on a door, an influence that drifted after me upstairs and pressed against windows.
Would the world be in the mess it is if we were loyal to love and not to countries?
One's life is more formed, I sometimes think, by books than by human beings: it is out of books one learns about love and pain at second hand.
I had never known her before and I had never loved her so much. The more we know the more we love, I thought.
You cannot control what you love--you watch it driving recklessly towards the broken bridge, the torn-up track, the horror of seventy years ahead.
They can print statistics and count the populations in hundreds of thousands, but to each man a city consists of no more than a few streets, a few houses, a few people. Remove those few and a city exists no longer except as a pain in the memory, like a pain of an amputated leg no longer there.
God save us always,' I said 'from the innocent and the good.
He couldn't tell that this was one of those occasions a man never forgets: a small cicatrice had been made on the memory, a wound that would ache whenever certain things combined - the taste of gin at mid-day, the smell of flowers under a balcony, the clang of corrugated iron, an ugly bird flopping from perch to perch.
If two people loved, they slept together; it was a mathematical formula, tested and proved by human experience.
Pain is easy to write. In pain we're all happily individual. But what can one write about happiness?
A solitary laugh is often a laugh of superiority.
They are always saying God loves us. If thats love Id rather have a bit of kindness.
All the emotions have something in common. People are quite aware of the sorrow there always is in lust, but they are not so aware of the lust there is in sorrow.
I measured love by the extent of my jealousy.
It was like having a box of chocolates shut in the bedroom drawer. Until the box was empty it occupied the mind too much.
A brain is only capable of what it could conceive, andit couldnt concieve what it hasnt experienced
I'm only saying I want you to be happy. I hate your being unhappy. I don't mind anything you do that makes you happy." You just want an excuse. If I sleep with anybody else, you feel you can do the same - any time." That's neither here nor there. I want you to be happy, that's all." You'd make my bed for me?" Perhaps.
And when we love our sin then we are damned indeed.
Childhood was the germ of all mistrust. You were cruelly joked upon and then you cruelly joked. You lost the remembrance of pain through inflicting it.
With Your great schemes, You ruin our happiness like a harvester ruins a mouse's nest: I hate You, God, I hate You as though You existed.
He's satisfied with himself. If you have a soul you can't be satisfied.
She mixes religion with desertion to make it sound noble.
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