Quote

There is a terrible blindness in the love that wants only to accommodate. It's not only to do with omissions and half-truths. It implants a lack of being in the speaker and robs the self of an identity without which it is impossible for one to grow close to another.

Alexander Theroux

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Alexander Theroux
Age: 85
Born: 1939
Born: August 17
Novelist
Poet
Medford
Massachusetts
Alexander Louis Theroux
Self
Terrible
Accommodate
Love
Grow
Speaker
Wants
Blindness
Impossible
Speakers
Grows
Truths
Omissions
Half
Lack
Robs
Another
Identity
Implants
Without
Close
Omission

More quotes by Alexander Theroux

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One's style holds one, thankfully, at bay from the enemies of it but not from the stupid crucifixions by those who must willfully misunderstand it.
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Artists are never complete people. But if it's art that completes them, then what is taken away?
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I hate injustice, I despise inequity, I condemn hypocrisy, I abhor the lack of reason.
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Why should a blacksmith put his hands in the fire if he has tongs?
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I read passionately with a need to know and see the act of reading as an act of cognition and not simply a means of passing time.
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There is no loneliness like that of a failed marriage.
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Will I have to use a dictionary to read your book? asked Mrs. Dodypol. It depends, says I, how much you used the dictionary before you read it.
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September: it was the most beautiful of words, he’d always felt, evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret.
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Yellow is vagueness and luminousness, both.
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It's true, you can never eat a pet you name. And anyway, it would be like a ventriloquist eating his dummy.
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The parrot holds its food for prim consumption as daintily as any debutante, [with] a predilection for pot roast, hashed-brown potatoes, duck skin, butter, hoisin sauce, sesame seed oil, bananas and human thumb.
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I kneel to my Lord because I am such a failure. I pray, I hope, I look to the Gospels.
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I thought... their elegance... lies not so much in their clothes as in their bodies, and their bodies have received it, and continue to unceasingly receive it, from their souls, which are just like yours, lovely Simonetta.
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The man who has faith in logic is always cuckolded by reality.
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Hypocrisy is the essence of snobbery, but all snobbery is about the problem of belonging.
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Where there is no style, there is in effect no point of view. There is, essentially, no anger, no conviction, no self. Style is opinion, hung washing, the caliber of a bullet, teething beads.
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The ears, which master the face of a dunce, are that part of the head which most publishes stupidity.
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A lover is never a completely self-reliant person viewing the world through his own eyes, but a hostage to a certain delusion.
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Book-publishing is all about politics. Agents, editors, which books will be puffed, which ignored, etc.
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Ordinary persons, he said, smiling, found no differences between men. The artist found them all.
Alexander Theroux