I sit quietly and think about my mom. It's funny how memory erodes, If all I had to work from were my childhood memories, my knowledge of my mother would be faded and soft, with a few sharp memories standing out.
Think for a minute, darling: in fairy tales it's always the children who have the fine adventures. The mothers have to stay at home and wait for the children to fly in the window.
As I penetrate Clare she looks at me and I think I don't exist and a second later she turns her head and sees me. She cries out, not loudly, and looks back at me, above her, in her. Then she remembers, accepts it, this is pretty strange but it's okay, and in this moment I love her more than life.
It's living up to being happy that's the most difficult part.
I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I take walks. I work until I'm tired. I watch the wind play with the trash that's been under the snow all winter. Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by abscence?
Sometimes I'm happy when he's gone, but I'm always happy when he returns. -Clare
I sometimes end up in dangerous situations, and I come back to you broken and messed up, and you worry about me when I'm gone. It's like marrying a policeman.
Time is priceless, but it's Free. You can't own it, you can use it. You can spend it. But you can't keep it. Once you've lost it you can never get it back.
But you know: you know that if I could have stayed, if I could have gone on, that I would have clutched every second: whatever it was, this death, you know that it came and took me, like a child carried away by goblins.
I've noticed that Henry needs an incredible amount of physical activity all the time in order to be happy. It's like hanging out with a greyhound.
I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going. - Henry deTamble
That's what alcoholics do. It's in their job description: fall apart and then keep falling apart.
I still feel like a castaway, th elast of a once numerous species. It was as though Robinson Crusoe discovered the telltale footprint on the beach and then realized that it was his own. Myself, small as a leaf, thin as water, begins to cry.
To lose one child, Mr. DeTamble, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose three looks like carelessness.
But you make me happy. It's living up to being happy that's the difficult part.
Love the world and yourself in it, move through it as though it offers no resistance, as though the world is your natural element.
I have a sort of Christmas-morning sense of the library as a big box full of beautiful books.
The choices we're working with here are a block universe, where past, present and future all coexist simultaneously and everything has already happened; chaos, where anything can happen and nothing can be predicted because we can't know all the variables; and a Christian universe in which God made everything and it's all here for a purpose but we have free will anyway.
I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room
Very few people meet their soulmates at age six. So you gotta pass the time somehow. And Ingrid was very - patient. Overly patient. Willing to put up with odd behavior, in the hope that someday I would shape up and marry her martyred ass. And when somebody is that patient, you have to feel grateful, and then you want to hurt them. Does that make any sense?
Clare seems so pleased with the idea of me as a pirate that she forgets that I am Stranger Danger.
Maybe I'm dreaming you. Maybe you're dreaming me; maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other.
I look at him, look at the book, remember, this book, this moment, the first book I ever loved
I told Ing once that she dances like a German and she didn't like it, but it's true: she dances seriously, like lives are hanging in the balance, like precision dancing can save the starving children of India.
We are often insane with happiness. We are also very unhappy for reasons neither of us can do anything about. Like being separated.
CLARE: The library is cool and smells like carpet cleaner, although all I can see is marble.
Mom had just gotten back from Sydney, and she had brought me an immense, surpassingly blue butterfly, Papilio ulysses, mounted in a frame filled with cotton. I would hold it close to my face, so close I couldn't see anything but that blue. It would fill me with a feeling, a feeling I later tried to duplicate with alcohol and finally found again with Clare, a feeling of unity, oblivion, mindlessness in the best sense of the word.
The engagement ring is an emerald, and the dim light from the window is refracted green and white in it. The rings are silver, and they need cleaning. They need wearing, and I know just the girl to wear them.
More Audrey Niffenegger Quotations (Based on Topics)
Time - Love - Happiness - Life - Sense & Perception - Mothers - Books - Faces - Nature - Sleep - Librarian - Water - Emotions - Library - Children - Past - Balance - Winter - Death & Dying - View All Audrey Niffenegger Quotations
More Audrey Niffenegger Quotations (By Book Titles)
- The Time Traveler's Wife
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