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i'm going mad, i told myself. let me not be mad.

Ian Mcewan

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Ian Mcewan
Age: 76
Born: 1948
Born: June 21
Author
Film Producer
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
Belfast
Ireland
Mad
Told
Going

More quotes by Ian Mcewan

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I think the novel, its business is the investigation of human nature.
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The luxury of being half-asleep, exploring the fringes of psychosis in safety.
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He who hesitates is not only lost, but miles from the next exit.
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She would simply wait on the bridge, calm and obstinate, until events, real events, not her own fantasies, roe to her challenge, and dispelled her insignificance.
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Most of humanity gets by without reading novels or poetry, and no one would deny the richness of their thoughts.
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For the professors in the academy, for the humanities generally, misery is more amenable to analysis: happiness is a harder nut to crack.
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A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.
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It is quite impossible these days to assume anything about people's educational level from the way they talk or dress or from their taste in music. Safest to treat everyone you meet as a distinguished intellectual.
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Let his name be cleared and everyone else adjust their thinking. He had put in time, now they must do the work. His business was simple. Find Cecilia and love her, marry her and live without shame.
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Novelists have to be adept at controlling the flow of information, and, most crucially, they have to be in charge of the narrative.
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When people have supernatural beliefs I think they should be respected but there is no reason why they need to impose them on others.
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I'm quite good at not writing.
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If I could write the perfect novella I would die happy.
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The best way to tell people about climate change is through non-fiction. There's a vast literature of outstanding writing on the subject.
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It was thought, perception, sensations that interested her, the conscious mind as a river through time, and how to represent its onward roll, as well as all the tributaries that would swell it, and the obstacles that would divert it. If only she could reproduce the clear light of a summer's morning.
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The evasions of her little novel were exactly those of her life. Everything she did not wish to confront was also missing from her novella--and was necessary to it.
Ian Mcewan
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And though you think the world is at your feet, it can rise up and tread on you.
Ian Mcewan
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All she had needed was the certainty of his love, and his reassurance that there was no hurry when a lifetime lay ahead of them.
Ian Mcewan
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He was looking at her with amused suspicion. There was something between them, and even she had to acknowledge that a tame remark about the weather sounded perverse.
Ian Mcewan
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She had lolled about for three years at Girton with the kind of books she could equally have read at home--Jane Austen, Dickens, Conrad, all in the library downstairs, in complete sets. How had that pursuit, reading the novels that others took as their leisure, let her think she was superior to anyone else?
Ian Mcewan