Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
When I look at my life I realise that the mistakes I have made, the things I really regret, were not errors of judgement but failures of feeling.
Jeanette Winterson
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
Jeanette Winterson
Age: 67
Born: 1957
Born: August 27
Author
Film Producer
Journalist
Novelist
Prosaist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Writer
Manchester
England
Made
Errors
Really
Mistakes
Things
Regret
Life
Mistake
Judgemental
Feeling
Realise
Feelings
Realising
Look
Failures
Looks
Judgement
More quotes by Jeanette Winterson
Myths hook and bind the mind because at the same time they set the mind free: they explain the universe while allowing the universe to go on being unexplained and we seem to need this even now, in our twentieth-century grandeur.
Jeanette Winterson
I used to think marriage was a plate-glass window just begging for a brick.
Jeanette Winterson
Our broken society is not born out of the triumph of the individual, but out of his effacement. He vanishes, she vanishes, ask them who they are and they will offer you a wallet or a child.
Jeanette Winterson
A curse on this game. How can you stick at a game when the rules keep on changing? I shall call myself Alice and play croquet with the flamingos. In Wonderland everyone cheats and love is Wonderland, isn't it?
Jeanette Winterson
We bury things so deep we no longer remember there was anything to bury. Our bodies remember. Our neurotic states remember. But we don't.
Jeanette Winterson
I've never been tempted by God but I like his trappings.
Jeanette Winterson
We [fiction writers] are much more of a maze than we are a motorway. Things are always in flux, they're always in movement, they're always twisting back on each other. I think the straight line is such a lie.
Jeanette Winterson
Time that withers you will wither me. We will fall like ripe fruit and roll down the grass together. Dear friend, let me lie beside you watching the clouds until the earth covers us and we are gone.
Jeanette Winterson
I don't want to eke out my life like a resource in short supply. The only selfish life is a timid one. To hold back, to withdraw, to keep the best in reserve, both overvalues the self, and undervalues what the self is.
Jeanette Winterson
I have found that I am not a space where people want to live, at least not without decorating first.
Jeanette Winterson
I have no idea what happens next.
Jeanette Winterson
Don’t you, when strangers and friends come to call, straighten the cushions, kick the books under the bed and put away the letter you were writing? How many of us want any of us to see us as we really are? Isn’t the mirror hostile enough?
Jeanette Winterson
I'm always nervous about going home, just as I am nervous about rereading books that have meant a lot to me.
Jeanette Winterson
It is important not to force a character into something. Fiction writers can be too controlling - usually that's a terror of our own unconscious processes.
Jeanette Winterson
Do you fall in love often? Yes often. With a view, with a book, with a dog, a cat, with numbers, with friends, with complete strangers, with nothing at all.
Jeanette Winterson
The stories we sit up late to hear are love stories. It seems that we cannot know enough about this riddle of our lives. We go back and back to the same scenes, the same words, trying to scrape out the meaning. Nothing could be more familiar than love. Nothing else eludes us so completely.
Jeanette Winterson
There are only three possible endings -aren't there? - to any story: revenge, tragedy or forgiveness. That's it. All stories end like that.
Jeanette Winterson
This is not a love story, but love is in it. That is, love is just outside it, looking for a way to break in.
Jeanette Winterson
What is it that you contain? The Dead. Time. Light patterns of millennia. The expanding universe opening in your gut. Are your twenty-three feet of intestines loaded with stars?
Jeanette Winterson
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. What then kills love? Only this: Neglect.
Jeanette Winterson