Quote

When a woman gives birth her waters break and she pours out the child and the child runs free.

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
Woman
Runs
Running
Birth
Giving
Gives
Children
Break
Child
Pours
Free
Waters
Water
Uplifting
Funny
Pregnancy

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Destiny is a worrying concept. I don't want to be fated, I want to choose.
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You said, 'I love you.' Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear?
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It’s better to think of my life like that— part miracle, part madness. It’s better if I accept that I can’t control any of the things that matter. My life is a trail of shipwrecks and set-sails. There are no arrivals, no destinations there are only sandbanks and shipwreck then another boat, another tide.
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I don't read reviews because by then it's too late - whatever anyone says, the book won't change. It is written.
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Creative work is incredibly difficult, and that is where the tests lie. Ordinary professionalism and twenty years' experience can accomplish a lot, but it can't access the hidden places. That still needs what it always needs - a condition of complete simplicity, costing not less than everything.
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I am much better at saying how I feel when I no longer feel it.
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Love's lengthways splits the heart in two - the heart where you are, the heart where you want to be.
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Love ... Just Nature's way of getting one person to pay the bills for another person.
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Are we all living like this? Two lives, the ideal outer life and the inner imaginative life where we keep our secrets?
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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?
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The body shuts down when it has too much to bear goes its own way quietly inside, waiting for a better time, leaving you numb and half alive.
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I think we are worlds compressed into human form.
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I don't know which is worse: to be wrongfully accused or mistakenly understood.
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The future is foretold from the past and the future is only possible because of the past. Without past and future, the present is partial. All time is eternally present and so all time is ours. There is no sense in forgetting and every sense in dreaming. Thus the present is made rich.
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I was happy but happy is an adult word. You don't have to ask a child about happy, you see it. They are or they are not. Adults talk about being happy because largely they are not. Talking about it is the same as trying to catch the wind. Much easier to let it blow all over you.
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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.
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I seem to have run in a great circle, and met myself again on the starting line.
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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.
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Why is the mind incapable of deciding its own subject matter? Why when we desperately want to think of one thing to we invariably think of another?
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