Nicole Krauss Quotes
Top 85 wise famous quotes and sayings by Nicole Krauss
Nicole Krauss Famous Quotes & Sayings
Discover top inspirational quotes from Nicole Krauss on Wise Famous Quotes.
And then I thought: perhaps that is what it means to be a father- to teach your child to live without you. If so no one was a greater father than I.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It took seven languages to make me; it would be nice if I could have spoken just one.
The accolades, just like the scrapes and bruises, fade in the end, and all you're left with is your ambition.
If you don't know what it feels like to have someone you love put a hand below your bottom rib for the first time, what chance is there for love?
She abandoned the garden, and the mums and asters that had trusted her to see them through to the first frost hung their waterlogged heads.
Part of the work of writing a novel is to uncover the symmetries or connections that make it whole, which might not reveal itself at first.
And yet still the question was there, and my mind went to it like a tongue probing the tender spot of a loose tooth: it hurt but I wanted to know
Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.
How was it possible to wake up every day and be recognizable to another when so often one was barely recognizable to oneself?
I think of novels as houses. You live in them over the course of a long period, both as a reader and as a writer.
We met each other when we were young, before we knew enough about disappointment, and once we did we found we reminded each other of it.
I like to think the world wasn't ready for me, but maybe the truth is that I wasn't ready for the world. I've always arrived too late for my life.
I have always written about characters who fall somewhere in the spectrum between solitary and totally alienated.
I forced myself to picture the last moments. The penultimate breath. A final sigh. And yet. It was always followed by another.
I'm very interested in structure, how multiple stories are assembled in different ways; that is what memory does as well.
An average of seventy-four species become extinct every day, which was one good reason but not the only one to hold someone's hand ...
I read differently now, more painstakingly, knowing I am probably revisiting the books I love for the last time. (245)
You can't imagine how hard I am on myself. Nothing pummels me like my own doubts, the feeling of how far I still have to go.
If I had a camera,' I said, 'I'd take a picture of you every day. That way I'd remember how you looked every single day of your life.
A wave of nausea came over me. And yet. Sometimes you need a stroke of genius and, lo and behold, genius comes and strokes you
I tried to make sense of things. Now that I think about it, I have always tried. It could be my epitaph. LEO GURSKY: HE TRIED TO MAKE SENSE.
Put even a fool in front of the window and you'll get a Spinoza; in the end life makes window watchers of us all
We search for patterns, you see, only to find where the patterns break. And it's there, in that fissure, that we pitch our tents and wait.
I read like an animal. I read under the covers, I read lying in the grass, I read at the dinner table. While other people were talking to me, I read.
That's what I do. Watch movies and read. Sometimes I even pretend to write, but I'm not fooling anyone. Oh, and I go to the mailbox.
When they write my obituary. Tomorrow. Or the next day. It will say, Leo Gursky is survived by an apartment full of shit
Wittgenstein once wrote that when the eye sees something beautiful, the hand wants to draw it. I wish I could draw you.
I know sometimes things are hard with Mum." "She misses Dad," I said, which was like pointing out that a sky-scraper is tall. Uncle Julian nodded.
I helped those in, who were locked out, others i helped keep out, what couldn't be let in, so that they could sleep without nightmares.
Holy shit, Bird," I whispered through my teeth. "At least try to be normal. You have to at least try.
One is always changing. I don't want to write the same book and I couldn't, because I'm a different person.
But how can one regret what, to the mind, has never existed? Even loss is an inaccurate description, for what loss is without the awareness of losing?
Life in general in my experience gets deeper and deeper, more and more profound, more and more complex, the older one gets.
Sooner or later she'll figure out the truth: you're a shell of a man, all she has to do is knock against you to find out you're empty.
He was an average man. A man willing to accept things as they were, and, because of this, he lacked the potential to be in anyway original.
I spent the morning reading Ovid. I read differently now, more painstakingly, knowing I am probably revisiting the books I love for the last time.
If the book is a mystery to its author as she's writing, inevitably it's going to be a mystery to the reader as he or she reads it.
What interests me in writing a novel is taking really remote voices, characters, and stories and beginning to create some kind of web.
To me, this is the singular privilege of reading literature: we are allowed to step into another's life.
I have realised just how important it is to readers to feel that fictional stories are based on reality.
Maybe Grodzenski was showing me, with his quiet pride, the reason he hummed a little while he worked.