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It was a silence that heard itself, awful and beautiful.

Colum McCann

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Colum McCann
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: February 28
Academic
Journalist
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Dublin city
Awful
Silence
Heard
Beautiful

More quotes by Colum McCann

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There is always room for at least two truths.
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The Irish are great for their tunes, but all their lovesongs are sad and their warsongs happy.
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Stories are the best democracy we have. We are allowed to become the other we never dreamed we could be.
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The point of flight. To get rid of oneself. That was reason enough to fly.
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He felt for a moment uncreated. Another kind of awake.
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The repeated lies become history, but they don't necessarily become the truth.
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I grew up sort of middle class, safe and suburban.
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Women get the short shrift in history. It's been largely written and dictated by men, or at least men believe that we own it, and women have really been in those quieter moments at the edge of history. But, really, they're the ones who are turning the cogs and the wheels and allowing things like the peace process to happen.
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I don't know of a greater privilege than being allowed to tell a story, or to listen to a story. They're the only thing we have that can trump life itself.
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I gave them all the truth and none of the honesty.
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Memory has a heavy backspin, yet it’s still impossible to land exactly where we took off.
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One small cloud, cast out by the herd, limps away to the west.
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She was tired of everyone wanting to go to heaven, nobody wanting to die. The only thing worth grieving over, she said, was that sometimes there was more beauty in this life than the world could bear.
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He might have been naive, but he didn't care he said he's rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic.
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That's what sons do: write to their mothers about recall, tell themselves about the past until they come to realize that they are the past.
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Part of the beauty of fiction is that we come alive in a body that we don't own.
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Long ago, long ago. The simple things come back to us. They rest for a moment by our ribcages then suddenly reach in and twist our hearts a notch backward.
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The luxury of age was the giving up of vanity.
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I have the most charmed, most - I feel entirely blessed and lucky that I have the life that I have.
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It is not fashionable anymore, I suppose, to have a regard for one's mother in the way my brother and I had then, in the mid-1950s, when the noise outside the window was mostly wind and sea chime.
Colum McCann