Lidia Yuknavitch quotes: wise famous quotes, sayings and quotations by Lidia Yuknavitch

Lidia Yuknavitch Famous Quotes & Sayings

Discover top inspirational quotes from Lidia Yuknavitch on Wise Famous Quotes.

The practice of employing metaphor and image and composition and linguistic choices to move the reader through the content.

Photographs replace memory. Photographs replace lived experience. History.

When they own languages, she thought, we are terrorists. When we own them, we are revolutionaries.

I am a woman who talks to herself and lies.

To move violently and beautifully through skin, to enter matter-isn't that evolution's climax?

Out of the sad sack of sad shit that was my life, I made a wordhouse.

What we need, is a break out. Out of our lives, out of Seattle, out of the dumb script of girl.

Later, someone will come back and get her and take her back home.

I never felt crazy, I just felt gone away.

Dead infants don't get urns unless you pay for them - and then they stuff crap in besides just ashes to cover the smallness.

In water, like in books - you can leave your life.

It is possible to make family any way you like. It is possible to love men without rage. There are thousands of ways to love men.

We are all swimmers before the dawn of oxygen and earth. We all carry the memory of that breathable blue past.

Underneath the forms of fiction and poetry, you can bet your ass the ground comes from someone's actual life experience.

how to make language go strange and vertical to make a poem. How to trust the moon.

We drank everything his favorite poet drank-Bukowski- and like Bukowski's women, I matched him drink for drink.
We drank each other blind.

It is only inside abstraction and expression and chaos that he is alive.

I drop to the curb like childhood leaving a body.

Russia will make new allegiances. Siberia, unfreezing, will become a land grab.

Words carry oceans on their small backs.

You know, every street in Paris is wet. Every person in Paris has a dog. Every hand in Paris holds a cigarette. Every mouth in Paris is a kiss.

We are what happens when the seemingly unthinkable celebrity rises to power. Our existence makes my eyes hurt.

I'm kind of still down with Virg Woolf on this one: "women must kill the aesthetic ideal through which they themselves have been 'killed' into art."

Sometimes saviors look different than you thought they would.

Superpowers will topple and reorganize.

Two things have always ruptured up and through hegemony: art and bodies.

China and India will become something we never imagined.

Little tragedies are difficult to keep straight.

We live through sound and light - through our technologies.

You must let it glide on surfaces so you don't make a mess of things

my parents Oedipal fakers

Because in loving his darkness I found my own.

A little bit outside of things is where some people feel each other. We do it to replace the frame of family. We

France will take on a militant tone, leaving its beautiful cultural tower to chase power after all these years.

But it is the world of men that creates pure destruction. And this is a truth we cannot bear: Since we bear them into the world, we cannot kill them.

Love isn't what anyone said. It's worse. You can die from it at any moment.

I kiss her. I kiss her and kiss her. I try not to bite her lip. She tastes like vodkahoney.

He treated ... my scarred as shit past and body as chapters of a book he wanted to hold in his hands and finish.

We laughed the laugh of women untethered, finally, from their origins.

Make up stories until you find one you can live with.

Aren't we all just shooting for a life where art matters?

Pity the small backs of children, he heard her saying. They carry death for us the second they are born.

Everybody uses everybody until we're all just a bunch of used up shit sacks waiting to go to dirt.

The rocks. They carry the chronology of water. All things simultaneously living and dead in your hands.

You have to be ready to be anyone in moments of danger or love.

Germany will forgive itself so much that it returns to arms.

The maternal impulse in animals to protect their young - that kind of instinct and subsequent violence is quite beautiful. Mythic even.

see the stories of women, but they are always stuck inside the stories of men. Why is that?

Words from my whole body, my entire life, or the lives of women and girls whose stories got stuck in their throats came gushing out.

I learned from an early age that if it feels bad, it's good, and if it feels good, you are bad

It is not a perfect place, America. It's simply a way out of this story.

Canada and Russia and Greenland will stake new claims in once-frozen waters.

Aspiration gets stuck in some people. It's difficult to think yes. Or up. When all you feel is fight or run.

It seems important to them that he is a kind of villain in their stories. This seems American.

I just want my stories to be mine.

She is at a crossroads: a child's violent will to survive lodged in her chest where her heart should be, but an utter indifference along with it.

Africa will become an out-of-reach commodity instead of the expendable refuse heap we've treated her as.

And memory has no syntax.

Any child is stronger than a mother, since the love we have for our children could kill us.

We do what our rising-star photographer failed to do. What all photojournalists fail to do. We go get her out of that death of a life before she dies.