Quote

Do all lovers feel helpless and valiant in the presence of the beloved? Helpless because the need to roll over like a pet dog is never far away. Valiant because you know you would slay a dragon with a pocket knife if you had to.

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
Need
Helpless
Slay
Feel
Pockets
Valiant
Feels
Beloved
Dragon
Needs
Roll
Knife
Never
Presence
Pocket
Would
Lovers
Dragons
Like
Dog
Knives
Away
Pet

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Words are the part of silence that can be spoken.
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I have no idea what happens next.
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Every believer is an anarchist at heart. True believers would rather see governments topple and history rewritten than scuff the cover of their faith.
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Unconditional love is what a child should expect from a parent even though it rarely works out that way.
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I don't understand why people talk of art as a luxury when it's a mind-altering possibility.
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Names are still magic even Sharon, Karen, Darren, and Warren are magic to somebody somewhere. In fairy stories, naming is knowledge. When I know your name, I can call your name, and when I call your name, you'll come to me.
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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.
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No emotion is the final one.
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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.
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There's something about the authenticity rather than the autobiography that makes my story and my pain move across and become your story and your pain.
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Trust me, I'm telling you stories.
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They believed that if a mouse found your hair clippings and built a nest with them you got a headache. If the nest was big enough, you might go mad.
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Passion is for holidays, not homecoming.
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I have a head for heights it's true, but no stomach for the depths. Strange then to have plumbed so many.
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I think men can really get in the way when you are trying to sort your life out and get on with it. Because they just take up so much space. I'm not under any illusions that I could have been where I am now in literary terms if I had been heterosexual. I really believe I would not be.
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Slightest accidents open up new worlds.
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Cheating is easy. There's no swank to infidelity. To borrow against the trust someone has placed in you costs nothing at first. You get away with it, you take a little more and a little more until there is no more to draw on. Oddly, your hands should be full with all that taking but when you open them there's nothing there.
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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.
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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?
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Knowing that books are something that is hidden, that almost has that alchemical quality to it. There is a secret society in here, and if you belong to it, you'll be able to transform your lead into gold. I have that rather magical sense about books - that they do, somehow, have special powers.
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