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In the library I felt better, words you could trust and look at till you understood them, they couldn't change half way through a sentence like people, so it was easier to spot a lie.
Jeanette Winterson
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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
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Way
Lying
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Library
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More quotes by Jeanette Winterson
I can't catch her by copying her, I can't draw her with a borrowed stencil. She is all the things a lover should be and quite a few a lover should not. Pin her down? She's not a butterfly. I'm not a wrestler. She's not a target. I'm not a gun. Tell you what she is? She's not Lot no. 27 and I'm not one to brag.
Jeanette Winterson
As far as I was concerned men were something you had around the place, not particularly interesting, but quite harmless. I had never shown the slightest feeling for them, and apart from my never wearing a skirt, saw nothing else in common between us.
Jeanette Winterson
We are lucky, even the worst of us, for daylight comes.
Jeanette Winterson
Their throats were bare for God.
Jeanette Winterson
I don't want to conquer you I just want to climb you.
Jeanette Winterson
Only a fool tries to reconstruct a bunch of grapes from a bottle of wine.
Jeanette Winterson
We shall all die, and our lives will be irrelevant then.
Jeanette Winterson
Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home – they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space.
Jeanette Winterson
There are voices and they must be heard.
Jeanette Winterson
Writing objects to the lie that life is small. Writing is a cell of energy. Writing defines itself. Writing draws its viewer in for longer than an instant. Writing exhibits boldness. Writing restores power to exalt, unnerve, shock, and transform us. Writing does not imitate life, it anticipates life.
Jeanette Winterson
Islands are metaphors of the heart, no matter what poet says otherwise.
Jeanette Winterson
You're never alone with a book, are you? It's a dialogue.
Jeanette Winterson
Misery pulls away the brackets of life leaving you to free fall.
Jeanette Winterson
I lay there, stretched out, looking at the one star visible through the tiny window of the room. Only connect. How can you do that when the connections are broken?
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
She was fragile, gentle, wide awake in a sleeping world.
Jeanette Winterson
Tell me the story, Pew. . . . It was a woman. You always say that. There's always a woman somewhere, child a princess, a witch, a stepmother, a mermaid, a fairy godmother, or one as wicked as she is beautiful, or as beautiful as she is good. Is that the complete list? Then there is the woman you love. Who's she? That's another story.
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
You know every cell in our bodies is completely renewed every seven years, so how can we talk about being the same person? We're absolutely not.
Jeanette Winterson
I have found that I am not a space where people want to live, at least not without decorating first.
Jeanette Winterson
