I am always sad, I think. Perhaps this signifies that I am not sad at all, because sadness is something lower than your normal disposition, and I am always the same thing. Perhaps I am the only person in the world, then, who never becomes sad. Perhaps I am lucky.
It was not the feeling of completeness I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.
She was with me. She did all of those things and so many more, things I would never tell anyone, and she never even loved me. Now that's love.
We are being very nomadic with the truth, yes?
But I knew that there couldn't be pockets that enormous. In the end, everyone loses everyone. There was no invention to get around that, and so I felt, that night, like the turtle that everything else in the universe was on top of.
I observe, I write, I try not to remember the life that I didn't want to loose but lost and have to remember, being here fills my heart with so much joy, even if the joy isn't mine, and at the end of the day I fill the suitcase with old news.
In the morning, when the nothing vase casts a something shadow, like the memory of someone you've lost, what can you say about that?
No matter how much I feel, I'm not going to let it out. If I have to cry, I'm gonna cry on the inside. If I have to bleed, I'll bruise. If my heart starts going crazy, I'm not gonna tell everyone in the world about it. It doesn't help anything. It just makes everyone's life worse.
Succotash my cocker spaniel, you fudging crevasse-hole dipshiitake!
We were trying to make our lives easier, trying, with all our rules, to make life effortless. But a friction began to arise between Nothing and Something, in the morning the Nothing vase cast a Something shadow, like the memory of someone you've lost, what can you say about that, at night the Nothing light spilled from the guest room spilled under the Nothing door and stained the Something hallway, there's nothing to say.
But I do not do these things because we are family. I do them because they are common decencies. That is an idiom that the hero taught me. I do them because I am not a big fucking asshole. That is another idiom that the hero taught me.
I am doing something I hate for you. This is what it means to be in love.
It would be possible, in theory, for life and art to be reversed.
Suddenly Yankel was overcome with a fear of dying, stronger than he felt when his parents passed of natural causes, stronger than when his only brother was killed in the flour mill or when his children died, stronger even than when he was a child and it first occurred to him that he must try to understand what it could mean not to be alive -- to be not in darkness, not in unfeeling -- to be not being, not to be.
Well, let me leave it at this: if God does exist, He would have a great deal be sad about. And if He doesn't exist, then that too would make Him quite sad, I imagine. So to answer your question, God must be sad.
But I knew the truth and that's why I was so sad. Every moment before this one depends on this one. Everything in the history of the world can be proven wrong in one moment.
I couldn't explain my need to myself, and that's why it was such a beautiful need
I put my hand on him. Touching him has always been important to me, it was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little, nothing touches, my fingers against his shoulder, the outsides of our thighs touching as we squeeled together on the bus. I couldnt explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stiching all of our little touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love?
I wanted so much to have a life. Even just once, even for a second.
It broke my heart into more pieces than my heart was made of, why can't people say what they mean at the time?
One weird thing is, I wonder if everyone's hearts would start to beat at the same time, like how women who live together have their menstrual periods at the same time, which I know about, but don't really want to know about.
That's the difference between heaven and hell! In hell we starve! In heaven we feed each other!
What about the teakettle? What if the spout opened and closed when the steam came out, so it would become a mouth, and it could whistle pretty melodies, or do Shakespeare, or just crack up with me.
Every night before putting her to sleep, Yankel counts her ribs, as if one might have disappeared in the course of the day and become the seed and soil for some new companion to steal her away from him.
I could not believe in a God that would challenge faith like this.
It's just that sometimes we make things up just to talk
The animals are those things that God likes but doesn't love.
What do babies dream of? She must be dreaming of the before-life, just as I dream of the afterlife.
But I still couldn't figure out what it all meant. The more I found out, the less I understood.
I did not feel that he owed it to me. And I did not feel like I owed it to him. We owed it to each other, which is something different.
I put my hand on the doorknob because I thought maybe her hand was on the doorknob on the other side.
I wanted to cry but I didn't, I probably should have cried, I should have drowned us there in the room ending our suffering.
It was getting hard to keep all the things I didn't know inside me.
People around the world were moving from one place to another. No one was staying.
Everyone performs bad actions... A bad person is someone who does not lament his bad actions.
I have witnessed Grandfather cry, and I implore myself to say that I desire to never witness him cry again. If this signifies that I must do things for him so that he will not cry, then I will do those things. If this signifies that I must not look when he cries, then I will not look.
Life was a small negative space cut out of the eternal solidity, and for the first time, it felt precious - not like all of the words that had come to mean nothing, but like the last breath of a drowning victim.
The bruises go away, and so does how you hate, and so does the feeling that everything you receive from life is something you have earned.
What? she said once to herself, and then once aloud, What? She felt a total displacement, like a spinning globe brought to a sudden halt by the light touch of a finger. How did she end up here, like this? How could there have been so much - so many moments, so many people and things, so many razors and pillows, timepieces and subtle coffins - without her being aware? How did her life live itself without her?
Did she always have something to read in front of her so she wouldn't have to look at anything else?
I didn't feel empty. I wished I'd felt empty. ... I wanted to be empty like an overturned pitcher. But I was full like a stone.
I realized that your mother couldn't see the emptiness, she couldn't see anything...All of the words I'd written to her over all of those years, had I never said anything to hear at all?
It was terrible. All of the things we couldn't share. The room was filled with conversations we weren't having.
She had been in love so many times that she began to suspect she was not falling in love, but rather doing something much more ordinary
More Jonathan Safran Foer Quotations (Based on Topics)
Life - Love - World - Time - Sadness - Death & Dying - Mind - Cry - People - Truth - Fathers - Thought & Thinking - Memory - Joy & Excitement - Birds - Future - Family - God - Literature - View All Jonathan Safran Foer Quotations
More Jonathan Safran Foer Quotations (By Book Titles)
- Everything is Illuminated
- Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
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