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The dead have a presence.
Don DeLillo
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Don DeLillo
Age: 87
Born: 1936
Born: November 20
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Don Delillo
Donald Richard DeLillo
Dead
Death
Presence
More quotes by Don DeLillo
The greater the scientific advance, the more primitive the fear.
Don DeLillo
Let's enjoy the aimless days while we still can.
Don DeLillo
There were moments when she wasn't talking so much as fading into time, dropping back into some funnelled stretch of recent past.
Don DeLillo
The question of dying becomes a wise reminder. It cures us of our innocence of the future.
Don DeLillo
Fear is self-awareness raised to a higher level.
Don DeLillo
People will always make comparisons.
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America was and is the immigrant's dream.
Don DeLillo
I've got death inside me. It's just a question of whether or not I can outlive it.
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Everything is barely weeks. Everything is days. We have minutes to live.
Don DeLillo
The less there was to see, the harder he looked, the more he saw. (Point Omega)
Don DeLillo
A dead afternoon in a dark bar was not the worst of fates.
Don DeLillo
Technology is lust removed from nature.
Don DeLillo
Fame and secrecy are the high and low ends of the same fascination.
Don DeLillo
I see contemporary violence as a kind of sardonic response to the promise of consumer fulfilment in America.
Don DeLillo
I've always felt that my subject was living in dangerous times.
Don DeLillo
Stories are consoling, fiction is one of the consolation prizes for having lived in the world.
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How many beginnings before you see the lies in your excitement?
Don DeLillo
I didn’t do anything. I don’t have an explanation, I don’t know why I wanted to write. I did some short stories at that time, but very infrequently. I quit my job just to quit. I didn’t quit my job to write fiction. I just didn’t want to work anymore
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Everyone who does not live in Berlin lives in Brooklyn now.
Don DeLillo
It was the time of year, the time of day, for a small insistent sadness to pass into the texture of things. Dusk, silence, iron chill. Something lonely in the bone.
Don DeLillo