Helen Oyeyemi quotes: wise famous quotes, sayings and quotations by Helen Oyeyemi

Helen Oyeyemi Famous Quotes & Sayings

Discover top inspirational quotes from Helen Oyeyemi on Wise Famous Quotes.

She was much too thin. She was serene, like someone accustomed to sickness, someone who layed back to back with it in bed.

All around them people were speaking a language Brown didn't understand; it was like silence with sharp edges in it.

I love taking things out of context and playing with them and chopping up rules.

Marriage is no real excuse for not loving.

I looked inside my typewriter. There's a city in there. Black and grey columns and no inhabitants.

If you wish to be truly free, you must love no one.

Cities are fueled by the listless agony of workers providing services to other workers who barely acknowledge those services.

I can recommend wearing blue mascara whilst writing. I'm telling you, it really adds something.

There were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty.

And in time, and by being a good woman, and a patient woman, she would have won a good and patient man.

After half an hour the Senora emerged, short of breath, with flushed cheeks....as uf she'd been seized and shaken like a faulty thermometer.

...she was herself entire, and knew she could not be consumed.

It was the dread that comes about when you are allowed to have something that seems costly and yet you're not asked for payment.

I've read that madness is present when everything you see and hear takes on an equal significance. A dead bird makes you cry, and so does a doorknob.

This was a little house, with a ceiling that kept getting higher and higher, a hot place with no windows. This was anger.

So Mr. Pizarsky had been a poet? That was how he'd said it: "I was a poet." As if the poet had died. He was hiding, perhaps.

In my family, telling stories is just a way of life.

She was only fifteen. At that age embarassment is something you can actually die of.

Daphne came in with her arms full of books, and her eyes blazing like two poisoned moons. How'd you like the mess St. John?

I feel like an old lady; my hero is Miss Marple.

How long had the Doc been crazy? I don't know. Quite some time, I guess. Don't worry. He was only a general practitioner.

what they'd been afraid of was running out of self. On the contrary the more they loved the more there was to love.

I have loved a fool who counted kisses, she thought.

I think the soul must be heavy and smooth, Myrna: I deduce this from the buoyant, jerky movements of puppets, which lack souls.

Sometimes our subconscious is so transparent it's boring

Would that be dangerous, to not look while being looked at?

She was poised and sympathetic, like a girl who'd just come from the future but didn't want to brag about it.

He honestly expected her to believe that she could make a bad offering and her ancestors wouldn't mind.

To the naked eye Boudicca is a haze of noxious green that lurks among fronds of seaweed looking exactly like the aftermath of a chemical spill.

It turns out that the average annoyed American only needs to pull three terrible faces before she feels better.

His dear face - his thrice-broken nose, his summer eyes.

My heart stirring this way and that like so much hot soup,

I was born, and then I was quietly resentful of that fact for a few years ... but then I went to a library and it was okay.

I've always felt happy in my own company. It's only when I get around other people that things get sticky.

If I was afraid that something bad would happen, why wait? Why not make it happen now?

But also ... I have plenty of people around me to talk to, and no one to be honest with.

They tried their best with each other, but it just wasn't any good.

She had a new bracelet on, stacked with emeralds brighter than her eyes. I hate rich people.

I don't have a style. I just try to write what the story demands.

Most of the people who say beauty fades say it with a smirk. Fading is more than just expected, it's what they want to see. I don't.

Jess couldn't stop spitting out words, because they were words like blades to hurt, and if she swallowed them, she'd be scraped hollow.

When I saw you for the first time, I thought you had a secret life.

The way I live now is that I only write, which means that I'm very poor but very happy. Everything in my life is the way I want it to be.

I hate that my life is teaching me that I can only be loved if I put my love out of reach and just drift above people until they love my remoteness.

I do tend to feel more connected to dead writers, perhaps because they have finished their work.

She had to quickly pop back to the fifteenth century to find a word for how beautiful he was. The boy was makeless.

For reasons of my own I take note of the way people act when they're around mirrors.

I take aliens very seriously and don't appreciate light entertainment or weak approximations being made of them.

The water is very green and has a sweet taste, both boys wrote in their diaries, at different times.

If you should find yourself in a place that is indifferent to you and there is someone there that your spirit stretches to, then that person is kin.

... there's a difference between having no one because you've chosen it and having no one because everyone has been taken away.

So her missing person's poster features a girl with long hair and dreamy eyes that don't see the fracture coming.

Who's there?
Something old? Someone holy ... ?

You feel you've seen a hundred of me. You know how my tiny mind works. But maybe it goes both ways.

When something catches your attention just keep your attention on it, stick with it 'til the end, and somewhere along the line there'll be weirdness.

Last summer I spent almost an hour blowing dandelions off their stems towards him, so that he had a chance to wish for everything he wanted.

He kissed me like ice cream, like a jazz waltz, the rough, gentle way the sea washed sand off my skin on the hottest day of the year.

It was the usual struggle between one who loves by accepting burdens and one who loves by refusing to be one.

Nobody ever warned me about mirrors, so for many years I was fond of them, and believed them to be trustworthy ...

Because things grow. Wherever there is air and light and open space, things grow.

The Soul Selects Her Own Society (Chapter 12 title)

Honoring delicacy over full disclosure only comes back to haunt you in the end.

I know of witches who whistle at different pitches, calling things that don't have names.

For my Mr. Fox
(whoever you are)

But then, maybe "I don't believe in you" is the cruelest way to kill a monster.

That's the ideal meeting ... once upon a time, only once, unexpectedly, then never again.

White is for witching, a colour to be worn so that all other colours can enter you, so that you may use them. At a pinch, cream will do.

Were those exact words said: 'I no longer love you'?"
"No."
"No. Hardly anybody ever says it like that, do they? They simply become unkind.

It was much more difficult to be alarmed by the events of a day that was almost over.

How can you know me and want to die?

Other things my best friend said to me: That two years was but a short span.

To have seen your lips and not ever kissed them would have been the ruin of me ...

I love character and voice, and my favourite books have been the ones in which I've become completely absorbed.

According to Stendhal it takes about a year and a month to fall in love, all being well.

People underestimate the freckled.

Rowan's physical effect- godlike jawline, long-lashed eyes, umber skin, rakish quiff of hair- is that of lightening strike.

A real writer has to be able to write about the body. They have to. It's where we live. So

Home is where your teapots are.

Maybe she grew one more in the night and that's why the night sleep was so deep, it was a matching pair of sleeps. -

And she walked away, and she walked away, and that was that, and that was that.

The general advice is always be yourself, be yourself, which only makes sense if you haven't got an attitude problem.

Mami answers and her voice is hoarse and thin, and i think fight me better than this.

Wolves are hosting wedding feasts and witches are brushing their hair today." Presence

Be bad. Be wicked. And you should worry. But don't.

Oh, everyone's got a view, haven't they? .. Everyone's got something to say, she'd tell me..

You don't return people's smiles - it's perfectly clear to you that people can smile and smile and still be villains.

A library at night is full of sounds: the unread books can't stand it any longer and announce their contents, some boasting, some shy, some devious.

His voice in my ear. It did interesting things to me. It curved my back and parted my lips. I felt lazy and feline, and he wasn't even in the room.

She encouraged herself to see her very small presence in the world as a good thing, a power, something that a hero might possess.