Grace Farson > Grace's Quotes

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  • #1
    Kazuo Ishiguro
    “Memory is quite central for me. Part of it is that I like the actual texture of writing through memory...”
    Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go


  • #2
    E.E. Cummings
    “nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
    the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
    compels me with the colour of its countries,
    rendering death and forever with each breathing

    (i do not know what it is about you that closes
    and opens;only something in me understands
    the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
    nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

    -excerpt of #35 from "100 Selected Poems”
    E.E. Cummings


  • #3
    E.E. Cummings
    “somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
    any experience, your eyes have their silence:
    in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
    or which i cannot touch because they are too near

    your slightest look easily will unclose me
    though i have closed myself as fingers,
    you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
    (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

    or if your wish be to close me, i and
    my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
    as when the heart of this flower imagines
    the snow carefully everywhere descending;

    nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
    the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
    compels me with the colour of its countries,
    rendering death and forever with each breathing

    (i do not know what it is about you that closes
    and opens; only something in me understands
    the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
    nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands”
    E.E. Cummings, Selected Poems


  • #4
    J.D. Salinger
    “I have scars on my hands from touching certain people…Certain heads, certain colours and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me.”
    J.D. Salinger, Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction


  • #5
    Annie Dillard
    “What do I make of all this texture? What does it mean about the kind of world in which I have been set down? The texture of the world, its filigree and scrollwork, means that there is the possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knock, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek.”
    Annie Dillard


  • #6
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. [...] Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them. Thus X will never compose the immortal music that would clash with the second-rate symphonies he has accustomed us to. Y will never commit murder. Under no circumstances can Z ever betray us. We have it all arranged in our minds, and the less often we see a particular person, the more satisfying it is to check how obediently he conforms to our notion of him every time we hear of him. Any deviation in the fates we have ordained would strike us as not only anomalous but unethical. We could prefer not to have known at all our neighbor, the retired hot-dog stand operator, if it turns out he has just produced the greatest book of poetry his age has seen.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita


  • #7
    Virginia Woolf
    “Behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern; that we—I mean all human beings—are connected with this; that the whole world is a work of art; that we are parts of the work of art. Hamlet or a Beethoven quartet is the truth about this vast mass that we call the world. But there is no Shakespeare, there is no Beethoven; certainly and emphatically there is no God; we are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.”
    Virginia Woolf, Moments of Being


  • #8
    David Sedaris
    “I just looked at the pattern of my life, decided I didn't like it, and changed.”
    David Sedaris, Barrel Fever


  • #9
    Cormac McCarthy
    “Because the question for me was always whether that shape we see in our lives was there from the beginning or whether these random events are only called a pattern after the fact. Because otherwise we are nothing.”
    Cormac McCarthy, All The Pretty Horses: All The Pretty Horses


  • #10
    Ursula K. Le Guin
    “And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern. You need distance, interval. The way to see how beautiful the earth is, is to see it as the moon. The way to see how beautiful life is, is from the vantage point of death.”
    Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed


  • #11
    Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez
    “The interpretation of our reality through patterns not our own serves only to make us ever more unknown ever less free ever more solitary.”
    Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez


  • #12
    Barbara Kingsolver
    “The moth settled onto the curtain and sat still. It was an astonishing creature, with black and white wings patterned in geometric shapes, scarlet underwings, and a fat white body with black spots running down it like a snowman's coal buttons. No human eye had looked at this moth before; no one would see its friends. So much detail goes unnoticed in the world.”
    Barbara Kingsolver


  • #13
    Virginia Woolf
    “Let us record the atoms as they fall upon the mind in the order in which they fall, let us trace the pattern, however disconnected and incoherent in appearance, which each sight or incident scores upon the consciousness. Let us not take it for granted that life exists more fully in what is commonly thought big than in what is commonly thought small.”
    Virginia Woolf, The Common Reader


  • #14
    Kim Addonizio
    “Out there people are working and arguing and laughing, living their beautiful, terrible lives, falling in love and having babies and being bored out of their skulls and feeling depressed, then being consoled by some little thing like watching the patterns the light makes through the leaves of trees, casting shadows on the sidewalks.
    I remember the line from that poem now.
    Downward to darkness, on extended wings.”
    Kim Addonizio, Little Beauties


  • #15
    “If you see a whole thing – it seems that it’s always
    beautiful. Planets, lives . . . But close up a world’s all
    dirt and rocks. And day to day, life’s a hard job, you
    get tired, you lose the pattern.”
    ― Ursula Le Guin


  • #16
    John Steinbeck
    “I live alone," he said simply. "I live in the open. I hear the waves at night and see the black patterns of the pine boughs against the sky. With sound and silence and color and solitude, of course I see visions. Anyone would."

    "But you don't believe in them?" Doc asked hopefully.

    "I don't find it a matter for belief or disbelief," the seer said. "You've seen the sun flatten and take strange shapes just before it sinks into the ocean. Do you have to tell yourself everytime that it's an illusion caused by atmospheric dust and light distorted by the sea, or do you simply enjoy the beauty of it? Don't you see visions?"

    "No," said Doc.”
    John Steinbeck, Sweet Thursday


  • #17
    G.K. Chesterton
    “There is at the back of every artist’s mind something like a pattern and a type of architecture. The original quality in any man of imagination is imagery. It is a thing like the landscape of his dreams; the sort of world he would like to make or in which he would like to wander, the strange flora and fauna, his own secret planet, the sort of thing he likes to think about. This general atmosphere, and pattern or a structure of growth, governs all his creations, however varied.”
    G.K. Chesterton


  • #18
    David Sedaris
    “If you aren't cute, you may as well be clever.”
    David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day


  • #19
    David Sedaris
    “I'm the most important person in the lives of almost everyone I know and a good number of the people I've never even met.”
    David Sedaris


  • #20
    David Sedaris
    “Often I'd take out my magnifying glass and stare into the chaos that was her face.”
    David Sedaris


  • #21
    David Sedaris
    “Weird doors open. People fall into things.”
    David Sedaris


  • #22
    Virginia Woolf
    “You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”
    Virginia Woolf


  • #23
    Virginia Woolf
    “Why are women... so much more interesting to men than men are to women?”
    Virginia Woolf


  • #24
    Virginia Woolf
    “For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.”
    Virginia Woolf


  • #25
    Virginia Woolf
    “As a woman I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As a woman, my country is the whole world.”
    Virginia Woolf


  • #26
    Virginia Woolf
    “I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.”
    Virginia Woolf


  • #27
    Virginia Woolf
    “No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.”
    Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own / Three Guineas


  • #28
    Chuck Palahniuk
    “I want out of the labels. I don't want my whole life crammed into a single word. A story. I want to find something else, unknowable, some place to be that's not on the map. A real adventure.'
    A spinx. A mystery. A blank. Unknown. Undefined.”
    Chuck Palahniuk


  • #29
    Sylvia Plath
    “When they asked some old Roman philosopher or other how he wanted to die, he said he would open his veins in a warm bath. I thought it would be easy, lying in the tup and seeing the redness flower from my wrists, flush after flush through the clear water, till I sank into sleep under a surface gaudy as poppies.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar


  • #30
    John Steinbeck
    “These too are of a burning color--not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.”
    John Steinbeck, East of Eden




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