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.
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.
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?
Succotash my cocker spaniel, you fudging crevasse-hole dipshiitake!
A map such as that one is worth many hundreds, and as luck will have it, thousands of dollars. But more than this, it is a remembrance of that time before our planet was so small. When this map was made, I thought, you could live without knowing where you were not living.
In the water I saw my father's face, and that face saw the face of its father, and so on, and so on, reflecting backward to the beginning of time, to the face of God, in whose image we were created.
The sky slowly pulled up its blue dress to reveal night.
His voice was handsome and broken, like a cobblestone street.
I thought maybe if she could express herself rather than suffer herself, if she had a way to relieve the burden, she lived for nothing more than living, with nothing to get inspired by, to care for, to call her own, she helped out at the store, then came home and sat in her big chair and stared at her magazines, not at them but through them, she let the dust accumulate on her shoulders.
We looked at each other until it felt like everything would burst into flames
For how long could we fail until we surrendered?
Once you hear something, you can never return to the time before you heard it.
You are the only one who has understood even a whisper of me, and I will tell you that I am the only person who has understood even a whisper of you.
I flipped back through the pad of paper while I thought about what Stephen Hawking would do next.
I wasn't having second thoughts, but I was having thoughts.
She said I could have a seat on the couch if I wanted to, but I told her I didn't believe in leather, so I stood.
Years were passing through the spaces between moments.
I am doing something I hate for you. This is what it means to be in love.
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.
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 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?
It broke my heart into more pieces than my heart was made of, why can't people say what they mean at the time?
That's the difference between heaven and hell! In hell we starve! In heaven we feed each other!
A powerful wind swept through the shtetl, making it whistle. Those studying obscure texts in dimly lit rooms looked up. Lovers making amends and promises, amendments and excuses, fell silent.
In truth I was manufacturing a brick wall of shits.
There has yet to be a human to survive a span of history without at least one end of the world.
Humans are the only animal that blushes, laughs, has religion, wages war, and kisses with lips. So in a way, the more you kiss with lips, the more human you are. And the more you wage war.
More Jonathan Safran Foer Quotations (Based on Topics)
Life - Love - World - Time - Sadness - Death & Dying - Cry - People - Mind - Truth - Memory - Thought & Thinking - Fathers - God - Literature - Joy & Excitement - Birds - Future - Family - 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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