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Being ill like this combines shock - this time I will die - with a pain and agony that are unfamiliar, that wrench me out of myself.

Harold Brodkey

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Harold Brodkey
Age: 65 †
Born: 1930
Born: October 25
Died: 1996
Died: January 26
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Staunton
Illinois
Aaron Roy Weintraub
Pain
Wrench
Time
Wrenches
Like
Combines
Unfamiliar
Agony
Shock
Ill
Dies

More quotes by Harold Brodkey

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I can't change the past, and I don't think I would. I don't expect to be understood. I like what I've written, the stories and two novels. If I had to give up what I've written in order to be clear of this disease, I wouldn't do it.
Harold Brodkey
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I was always crazy about New York, dependent on it, scared of it - well, it is dangerous - but beyond that there was the pressure of being young and of not yet having done work you really liked, trademark work, breakthrough work
Harold Brodkey
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My protagonists are my mother's voice and the mind I had when I was thirteen.
Harold Brodkey
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You really can’t write unless you read. You have to know what the game is all about.
Harold Brodkey
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If you like to read, sometimes it's interesting just to go and see what the reality is, of the word, of the seedy or not so seedy fiction writer, the drunk or sober poet... Sometimes you can go looking for illumination.
Harold Brodkey
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I'm sixty-two, and it's ecological sense to die while you're still productive, die and clear a space for others, old and young.
Harold Brodkey
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Memory, so complete and clear or so evasive, has to be ended, has to be put aside, as if one were leaving a chapel and bringing the prayer to an end in one's head.
Harold Brodkey
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In New York one lives in the moment rather more than Socrates advised, so that at a party or alone in your room it will always be difficult to guess at the long term worth of anything.
Harold Brodkey
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the cold winds of insecurity... hadn't shredded the dreamy chrysalis of his childhood. He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, for spring and warmth. How the wings ache, folded so, waiting that is, they ache until they atrophy.
Harold Brodkey
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The disparity between what people said life was and what I knew it to be unnerved me at times, but I swore that nothing would ever make me say life should be anything.
Harold Brodkey
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I have thousands of opinions still - but that is down from millions - and, as always, I know nothing.
Harold Brodkey
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I am sensible of the velocity of the moments, and entering that part of my head alert to the motion of the world I am aware that life was never perfect, never absolute. This bestows contentment, even a fearlessness.
Harold Brodkey
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Often writing is like a struggle to get back to a kind of belated, quite impure virginity.
Harold Brodkey
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It is like visiting one's funeral, like visiting loss in its purest and most monumental form, this wild darkness, which is not only unknown but which one cannot enter as oneself.
Harold Brodkey
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But death's acquisitive instincts will win.
Harold Brodkey
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I often thought men stank of rage it is why I preferred women, and homosexuals.
Harold Brodkey
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Almost the first thing I did when I became ill was to buy a truly good television set.
Harold Brodkey
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Nothing I have ever written has been admired as much as the announcement of my death.
Harold Brodkey
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Public radio is alive and kicking, it always has been
Harold Brodkey
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I am startled when people are themselves and are not my thoughts of them.
Harold Brodkey