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When I read Jerome D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye that was the first time I felt my mind blow open. I thought that book was speaking to me. I was 12 or 13 when I read that. I read everything on my mother's bookshelves.

Alice Hoffman

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Alice Hoffman
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: March 16
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Everything
Speaking
Book
Blow
First
Open
Mind
Read
Jerome
Time
Felt
Salinger
Mother
Catcher
Thought
Catchers
Firsts
Bookshelves

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The nature of love had totally escaped her until now. She had thought that if you lost it, you could never get it back, like a stone thrown down a well. But it was like the water at the bottom of the well, there when you can't even see it, shifting in the dark.
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My grandmother was overwhelmed by what was happening to us. She ahd moved back into the past because the here and the now was too terrible.
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I love science fiction but especially his because it's so humane.
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When I looked at her, she appeared to be a different person from the one I'd known... She had rewritten everything, our history together, our friendship. Now I was the girl who'd stolen Andres the girl who'd lied to her about who I was. Therefore, she owned me nothing.
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I feel more influenced in my own work by dreams than I do by other writers' works in a way. Or by popular culture, movies - what else is there to write about than love and loss?
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Even in times when it's difficult to figure out, how do you go forward, art - and books - always help
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We had to survive to remember. Otherwise everything we were would disappear. Those people we loved would fade as though we'd never loved them, as if they'd never walked and talked and burned, forgetting them was the real evil. That was the hole of darkness.
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That was the way illness appeared in a house, in the corners, in between floorboards, on the hooks in the closet, along with the sweaters and coats.
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Young people believe that regret is something you will never feel if you simply do as you please, but sometimes it is a matter of degree.
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Anyway, the sort of love that will not wait is probably best to pass by
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Others said May was best, that sweet green time when lilacs bloomed and gardens along Main Street were filled with sugary pink peonies and Dutch tulips.
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We are only an instant, that's true. But we are eternal.
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Sometimes words drew blood, they cut your tongue, they made you know things you couldn't unknow.
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Some things, when they change, never do return to the way they once were. Butterflies for instance, and women who've been in love with the wrong man too often.
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The only people out at this hour were ones who couldn't sleep,those haunted by one thing or another:love thwarted, love lost, love thrown away. They were the sort of people who didn't want to be noticed, who wanted to slip through shadows, be alone with their despair.
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That is the joy of reading fiction: when all is said and done, the novel belongs to the reader and his or her imagination.
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Some things, however, are true no matter how hard you might try to block them out, and a lie is always a lie, no matter how prettily told. Some doors, once they're opened, can never be closed again, just as some trust, once it's been lost, can never be won back.
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The more you feel, the stronger you are.
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Among men and women, those in love do not always announce themselves with declarations and vows. But they are the ones who weep when you're gone. Who miss you every single night, especially when the sky is so deep and beautiful, and the ground so very cold.
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The voice that arises out of the silence is something no one can imagine until it is heard. It roars when it speaks, it lies to you and convinces you, it steals from you and leaves you without a single word of comfort.
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