Deborah Levy Quotes

She was not a poet. She was a poem.

It is a disappointment to me to spawn a child who feels so deeply. I would like to refute the idea that to feel somehow makes you a better person.

It would take a while for me not to think of the Greek language as the father who walked out on me

Her taste for symmetry and structure, it helped her thoughts drift. Symmetry did not chain her, it set her free. (p. 85)

How do we set about not imagining something?

We are East & West looting each other.

It smelt of coconut ice cream and sweat and the Mediterranean sea. I

The unloved watch the loved perform the small rituals of their loving.

It was impossible to believe that someone did not want to be saved from their incoherence.

My love for my mother is like an axe. It cuts very deep.

History is the dark magician inside us, tearing at our liver. (Deborah Levy, Hot Milk, p. 185)

Life ia only worth living because we hope it will get better and we'll al get home safely.

Anything covered is always interesting. There is never nothing beneath something that is covered.

She is dark. He is fair. She comes from there. He comes from here. They like each other. It is an easy and lovely lust ...

This was the rearranged space of yesterday.

I want to be master of my own fuck-ups.

She was not a poet. She was a poem. She was about to snap in half. He thought his own poetry had made her la la la la love him. It was unbearable.

He bought her a bottle of lime pickle which seems to me a very intimate thing to do; it suggests he knows what she likes to taste.

Time has shattered, it's cracked like my lips.

play with whatever the day brought in.

We have travelled a long distance from the cow with a bucket of raw milk under its udder. We are a long way from home.' This

It is not enough to feel love. More important is how we express love.

As much as I try to make the past keep still and mind its manners, it moves and murmurs with me through every day.

Yes, there had been many times I called my daughters back to zip up their coats. All the same, I knew they would rather be cold and free.

To be forceful was not the same as being powerful and to be gentle was not the same as being fragile ...

They would be enchanted beginners all over again, ... That was the best thing to be in life.

The young woman was a window waiting to be climbed through. A window that she guessed was a little broken anyway.

When happiness is happening it feels as if nothing else happened before it, it is a sensation that happens only in the present tense.

It is dishonest to give me a poem and pretend to want my opinion when what you really want are reasons to live.

Has anyone ever actually told you how up yourself you are?

We're kissing in the rain.' Her voice was hard and soft at the same time. Like the velvet armchairs. Like the black rain inked on his hand.

We have to mourn our dead, but we cannot let them take over our life.

Next year he would suggest they hire a chalet on the edge of an icy fjord in Norway, as far away from the Jacobs family as possible.

We are East & West looting each other.