Quote

I walked out to brood on this life of ours, which seems from birth to death to be a steady loss, disguised by sudden gains and happiness, which persuade us of good fortune, when all the while the glass is emptying.

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
Birth
Persuade
Loss
Walked
Happiness
Sudden
Death
Steady
Seems
Glass
Good
Glasses
Emptying
Life
Gains
Brood
Fortune
Disguised

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Art can make a difference because it pulls people up short. It says, don't accept things for their face value you don't have to go along with any of this you can think for yourself.
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The world is surely wide enough to walk without fear.
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Men will gamble and plot and fight and fall, all for the winning of a trophy. A woman's heart, a piece of land, a kingdom, a lordship, a contract, a ship, an egg -- it hardly matters the which or the what, as soon as it is seen to be desired by one, another will make a prize of it.
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I have found that I am not a space where people want to live, at least not without decorating first.
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What you risk reveals what you value.
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Her butler opened it for her. His name was Boredom. She said, 'Boredom, fetch me a plaything.' He said 'Very good ma'am,' and putting on his white gloves so that fingerprints would not show he tapped at my heart and I thought he said his name was Love.
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Freud, one of the grand masters of narrative, knew that the past is not fixed in the way that linear time suggests. We can return. We can pick up what we dropped. We can mend what others broke. We can talk with the dead.
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If people aren't educated, they can't question. If they can't question, they can't change anything, which is great for the status quo and all the people who can question them at their own level.
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Islands are metaphors of the heart, no matter what poet says otherwise.
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Trust me, I'm telling you stories.
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I feel in colour, strong tones that I hue down for the comfort of the pastelly inclined. Beige and magnolia and a hint of pink are what the well-decorated heart is wearing who wants my blood red and vein-blue?
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Every moment you steal from the present is a moment you've lost forever. There is only now.
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Always in my books, I like to throw that rogue element into a stable situation and then see what happens.
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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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Adults talk about being happy because largely they are not.
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Autobiography is not important. Authenticity is important. The writer must fire herself through the text, be the molten stuff that welds together disparate elements. I believe there is always exposure, vulnerability, in the writing process, which is not to say it is either confessional or memoir. Simply, it is real.
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The curious are always in some danger. If you are curious you might never come home.
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The ancients believed in fate because they recognized how hard it is for anyone to change anything. The pull of past and future is so strong that the present is crushed by it. We lie helpless in the force of patterns inherited and patterns re-enacted by our own behavior. The burden is intolerable.
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It's hard to remember that this day will never come again. That the time is now and the place is here and that there are no second chances at a single moment.
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Not much touches us, but we long to be touched. We lie awake at night willing the darkness to part and show us a vision.
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