Quote

Temperamentally, the writer exists on happenings, on contacts, conflicts, action and reaction, speed, pressure, tension. Were he acontemplative purely, he would not write.

Elizabeth Bowen

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Elizabeth Bowen
Age: 73 †
Born: 1899
Born: June 7
Died: 1973
Died: February 22
Novelist
Short Story Writer
Writer
Dublin city
Elisabeth Bowen
Pressure
Reaction
Conflict
Thoughtful
Writer
Tension
Write
Reactions
Action
Contact
Temperamentally
Writing
Happenings
Contacts
Would
Exists
Conflicts
Thinking
Speed
Purely

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Where would the Irish be without someone to be Irish at?
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When you love someone all your saved up wishes start coming out.
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Yes, writing a novel, my boy, is like driving pigs to market - you have one of them making a bolt down the wrong lane another won't get over the right stile.
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She walked about with the rather fated expression you see in photographs of girls who have subsequently been murdered, but nothing had so far happened to her.
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It is not helpful to help a friend by putting coins in his pockets when he has got holes in his pockets.
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Nothing, that is say no one, can be such an inexorable tour-conductor as one's own conscience or sense of duty, if one allows either the upper hand: the self-bullying that goes on in the name of sight-seeing is grievous.
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Nothing arrives on paper as it started, and so much arrives that never started at all. To write is always to rave a little-even if one did once know what one meant
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life is a succession of readjustments.
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Solitary and farouche people don't have relationships they are quite unrelatable.
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For people who live on expectations, to face up to their realization is something of an ordeal.
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Only in a house where one has learnt to be lonely does one have this solicitude for things. One's relation to them, the daily seeing or touching, begins to become love, and to lay one open to pain.
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fashion seems to exist for an abstract person who is not you or me.
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Sacrificers are not the ones to pity. The ones to pity are those they sacrifice.
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At the age of twelve I was finding the world too small: it appeared to me like a dull, trim back garden, in which only trivial games could be played.
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All good dialogue perhaps deals with something unprecedented.
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Jealousy is no more than feeling alone against smiling enemies.
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Silence sat in the taxi, as though a stranger had got in.
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History is not a book, arbitrarily divided into chapters, or a drama chopped into separate acts it has flowed forward. Rome is a continuity, called 'eternal.' What has accumulated in this place acts on everyone, day and night, like an extra climate.
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Revenge was a very wild kind of justice.
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children like change - for one thing, they never anticipate regret.
Elizabeth Bowen