Quote

... it appears to me that problems, inherent in any writing, loom unduly large when one looks ahead. Though nothing is easy, little is quite impossible.

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
Though
Loom
Easy
Inherent
Problem
Appears
Littles
Ahead
Little
Large
Nothing
Problems
Looks
Quite
Writing
Impossible
Unduly

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One can live in the shadow of an idea without grasping it.
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I suspect victims they win in the long run.
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The novel does not simply recount experience, it adds to experience.
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nobody ever dies of an indignity.
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Some ideas, like dandelions in lawns, strike tenaciously: you may pull off the top but the root remains, drives down suckers and may even sprout again.
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Silence sat in the taxi, as though a stranger had got in.
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Where would the Irish be without someone to be Irish at?
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I became, and remain, my characters' close and intent watcher: their director, never. Their creator I cannot feel that I was, or am.
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Ireland is a great country to die or be married in.
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fashion seems to exist for an abstract person who is not you or me.
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All good dialogue perhaps deals with something unprecedented.
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To walk into history is to be free at once, to be at large among people.
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But surely love wouldn't get so much talked about if there were not something in it?
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Characters should on the whole, be under rather than over articulate. What they intend to say should be more evident, more striking (because of its greater inner importance to the plot) than what they arrive at saying.
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Young girls like the excess of any quality. Without knowing, they want to suffer, to suffer they must exaggerate they like to have loud chords struck on them.
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Everything is very quiet, the streets are never crowded, and the people one dislikes are out of town.
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Exhibitionism and a nervous wish for concealment, for anonymity, thus battle inside the buyer of any piece of clothing.
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Temperamentally, the writer exists on happenings, on contacts, conflicts, action and reaction, speed, pressure, tension. Were he acontemplative purely, he would not write.
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But in general, for the purposes of most novelists, the number of objects genuinely necessary for. . .describing a scene will be found to be very small.
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Every love has a poetic relevance of its own each love brings to light only what to it is relevant. Outside lies the junk-yard of what does not matter.
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