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That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself.

Anita Brookner

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Anita Brookner
Age: 87 †
Born: 1928
Born: July 16
Died: 2016
Died: March 10
Art Historian
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
London
England
Faded
Grey
Season
Seasons
Sun
Light

More quotes by Anita Brookner

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Writing has freed me from the despair of living.
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The essence of romantic love is that wonderful beginning, after which sadness and impossibility may become the rule.
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Great writers are the saints for the godless.
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Satire is dependent on strong beliefs, and on strong beliefs wounded.
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Fiction is the great repository of the moral sense. The wicked get punished.
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You have no idea how promising the world begins to look once you have decided to have it all for yourself. And how much healthier your decisions are once they become entirely selfish.
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Time misspent in youth is sometimes all the freedom one ever has.
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It will be a pity if women in the more conventional mould are to be phased out, for there will never be anyone to go home to.
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When you make a break for freedom you don't necessarily find company on the way.
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Accountability in friendship is the equivalent of love without strategy.
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You can never betray the people who are dead.
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Death is only a small interruption.
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A man can go from being a lover to being a stranger in three moves flat but a woman under the guise of friendship will engage in acts of duplicity which come to light very much later. There are different species of self-justification.
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Existentialism is about being a saint without God being your own hero, without all the sanction and support of religion or society.
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Writing novels preserves you in a state of innocence - a lot passes you by - simply because your attention is otherwise diverted.
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A man of such obvious and exemplary charm must be a liar.
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The evening passes somehow I watch television with Nancy, or I write. It is difficult, not having a family, and it is difficult to explain. I always go to bed early. And I am always ready for Monday morning, that time that other people dread.
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Always let them think of you as singing and dancing.
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Problems of human behavior still continue to baffle us, but at least in the Library we have them properly filed.
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I was brought up among the sort of self-important women who had a husband as one has an alibi.
Anita Brookner