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Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home. Clare sighs, turns her head, and is quiet. Hi, honey. I'm home. I'm home.

Audrey Niffenegger

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Audrey Niffenegger
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: June 13
Artist
Author
Novelist
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
University Teacher
Visual Artist
Writer
South Haven
Michigan
Country
Honey
Must
Quiet
Heart
Sweet
Like
Head
Turns
Clare
Place
Sighs
Home
Roads
Take
Sigh

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I'm living under water. Everything seems slow and far away. I know there's a world up there, a sunlit quick world where time runs like dry sand through an hourglass, but down here, where I am, air and sound and time and feeling are thick and dense.
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I love. I have loved. I will love.
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Don't you think it's better to be extremely happy for a short while, even if you lose it, than to be just okay for your whole life?
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Mama said, Dreams are different to real life but important too.
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Maybe I'm dreaming you. Maybe you're dreaming me maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other.
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Sometimes I'm happy when he's gone, but I'm always happy when he returns. -Clare
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The cure might be worse than the problem
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When it's over you look up: the world looks the same but you are somehow different and that feeling lingers for days.
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But you make me happy. It's living up to being happy that's the difficult part.
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When the woman you live with is an artist, every day is a surprise.
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Time passes and the pain begins to roll in and out as though it’s a woman standing at an ironing board, passing the iron back and forth, back and forth across a white tablecloth.
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I've noticed that Henry needs an incredible amount of physical activity all the time in order to be happy. It's like hanging out with a greyhound.
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...and I suddenly feel that Henry is there, incredible need for Henry to be there and to put his hand on me even while it seems to me that Henry is the rain and I am alone and wanting him - Clare
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What we need,' Henry says, 'is a fresh start. A blank slate. Let's call her Tabula Rasa.
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Every minute of his life since then has been marked by her absence, every action has lacked dimension because she is not there to measure against. And when I was young I didn't understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird.
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I told Ing once that she dances like a German and she didn't like it, but it's true: she dances seriously, like lives are hanging in the balance, like precision dancing can save the starving children of India.
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absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird
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We are often insane with happiness. We are also very unhappy for reasons neither of us can do anything about. Like being separated.
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Listen, sometimes when you finally find out, you realize that you were much better off not knowing.
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She looks up at me, still rocking. “Henry . . . why did me decide to do this again?” “Supposedly when it’s over they hand you a baby and let you keep it.” “Oh yeah.” --Wednesday, September 5, 2001
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