Quote

Mine the long night The secret place Where lovers meet In long embrace In purple dark In silvered kiss Forget the world And grasp your bliss

A. S. Byatt

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A. S. Byatt
Age: 88
Born: 1936
Born: August 24
Literary Critic
Novelist
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Sheffield
England
Dame Antonia Susan Duffy
Antonia Susan Drabble
Antonia Susan Duffy
Meet
Grasp
Secret
Bliss
Dark
Kiss
Forget
Kissing
Night
Lovers
Place
Embrace
Long
Mines
Silvered
World
Mine
Purple

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Art does not exist for politics, or for instruction- it exists primarily for pleasure, or it is nothing.
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…my Solitude is my Treasure, the best thing I have.
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Do I do as false prophets do and puff air into simulacra? Am I a Sorcerer--like Macbeth's witches--mixing truth and lies in incandescent shapes? Or am I a kind of very minor scribe of a prophetic Book--telling such truth as in me lies, with aid of such fiction as I acknowledge mine, as Prospero acknowledged Caliban.
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I like feeling my way into different minds and experiences. It comes naturally and always has.
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Think of this - that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other.
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You did not so much mind being -conventionally- betrayed, if you were not kept in the dark, which was humiliating, or defined only as a wife and dependent person, which was annihilating.
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I do not want to be a relative and passive being, anywhere. I want to live and love and write.
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Never stop paying attention to things. Never make your mind up finally. Do not hold beliefs.
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Biographies are no longer written to explain or explore the greatness of the great. They redress balances, explore secret weaknesses, demolish legends.
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I don't understand why, in my work, writing is always so dangerous. It's very destructive. People who write books are destroyers.
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What I need to write well is a combination of heat, light and solitude.
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I don't like gurus. I don't like people who ask you to follow or believe. I like people who ask you to think independently.
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I don't only write about English literature I also write about chaos theory and... ants. I can understand ants.
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Independent women must expect more of themselves, since neither men nor other more conventionally domesticated women will hope for anything, or expect any result other than utter failure.
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I have a dreadful fear that the more you try to prevent revealing the self the more you do.
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Only write to me, write to me, I love to see the hop and skip and sudden starts of your ink.
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Louis de Bernires is in the direct line that runs through Dickens and Evelyn Waugh. . .he has only to look into his world, one senses, for it to rush into reality, colours and touch and taste.
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I'm not very interested in myself. I do have a deep moral belief that you should always look out at other things and not be self-centred.
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The more research you do, the more at ease you are in the world you're writing about. It doesn't encumber you, it makes you free.
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We two remake our world by naming it / Together, knowing what words mean for us / And for the other for whom current coin / Is cold speech - but we say, the tree, the pool, / And see the fire in the air, the sun, our sun, / Anybody's sun, the world's sun, but here, now / Particularly our sun.
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