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You travel here and you travel there, trying to get out from under the cloud, and nothing works, and then one day you realize you've been carrying the weather around with you.

Chris Cleave

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Chris Cleave
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: May 14
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
London
England
Clouds
Travel
Works
Realize
Realizing
Around
Cloud
Nothing
Carrying
Trying
Weather

More quotes by Chris Cleave

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I write in the novel's afterword that our recent wars finish not with victory or defeat but with a calendar draw-down date and a presumption that we shall never be reconciled with the enemy.
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I like to push characters to extremes so they have to make really tough decisions and there is no life more extreme than that of an athlete.
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Still shaking, in the pew, I understood that it isn't the dead we cry for. We cry for ourselves, and I didn't deserve my own pity.
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I am a woman built upon the wreckage of myself.
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Life is savagely unfair. It ignores our deep-seated convictions and places a disproportionate emphasis on the decisions we make in split seconds.
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I was carrying two cargoes. Yes, one of them was horror, but the other one was hope.
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We cannot choose where to start and stop. Our stories are the tellers of us.
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So when I say that I am a refugee, you must understand that there is no refuge.
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[My maternal grandmother ] was a teacher in London and elsewhere during the war, although the children she taught were not the lost children who feature in the novel - those come from my research.
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I'm a much better writer for being a father.
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I'm not happy with just repeating myself.
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Courage is a muscle that develops through use. It's no use waiting for some inner fire to conveniently become apparent at the moment of crisis - that's cartoon stuff.
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Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this storyteller is alive
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Life is extremely short and you cannot dance to current affairs.
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My maternal grandmother was in London during the Blitz. Indeed, the man she was dating before she met my grandfather was killed beside her in a cinema, in 1941, when a bomb came through the roof - a tragedy in which she herself was badly wounded.
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I’m telling you, trouble is like the ocean. It covers two thirds of the world.
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Our stories are the tellers of us.
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Psychiatry in this place is like serving an in-flight meal in the middle of a plane crash. If I wanted to make you well, as a doctor, I should be giving you a parachute, not a cheese-and-pickle sandwich.
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In a few breaths' time I will speak some sad words to you. But you must hear them the same way we have agreed to see scars now. Sad words are just another beauty.
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It was the month of May and there was warm sunshine dripping through the holes between the clouds, like the sky was a broken blue bowl and a child was trying to keep honey in it.
Chris Cleave