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Scars crossed her welded wrists.

Jeffrey Eugenides

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Jeffrey Eugenides
Age: 64
Born: 1960
Born: March 8
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
Detroit
Michigan
Jeffrey Kent Eugenides
Crossed
Scars
Scar
Welded
Wrists

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that since Cecilia’s suicide, the Lisbon’s could hardly wait for the night to forget themselves in sleep
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There is a small window of opportunity for freckled girls to tan.
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Every letter was a love letter.
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One of the reasons that art is important to me is sometimes it actually feels more coherent than life. It orders the chaos.
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A changeableness, too, as if beneath my visible face there was another, having second thoughts.
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Can you see me? All of me? Probably not. No one ever really has.
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The Pulitzer Prize is an idea it's a vote of confidence. Like literature, it exists purely in the mind.
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I think there's a real connection between acting and writing novels because the way I write characters has a little bit to do with the method acting that I was taught in high school and college.
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Basically what we have here is a dreamer. Somebody out of touch with reality. When she jumped, she probably thought she'd fly
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The zipper opened all the way down our spines.
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I know that attaching memories to books may be going out of the world, but while it lasts, it's a strong record of your life.
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Lux spent the ride dialing the radio for her favorite song. It makes me crazy, she said. You know they're playing it somewhere, but you have to find it.
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-Who are you, anyway? -Just someone who knows, from personal experience, how attractive it can be to think you can save somebody else by loving them.
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But what humans forget, cells remember. The body, that elephant
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It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Sitting on the porch, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.
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He remained heartbroken, which meant one of two things: either his love was pure and true and earthshakingly significant or he was addicted to feeling forlorn, he liked being heartbroken.
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Paris was a museum displaying exactly itself.
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I had a briefcase at one point, but it was a kind of 1980s New Wave briefcase. It was made of some kind of cardboard and it had metal hinges. It was kind of faux industrial looking, and I used to carry my books in it rather than a backpack. I didn't want to have normal student accoutrements.
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It was something every child knew how to do, maintain a direct and full connection with the world. Somehow you forgot about it as you grew up, and had to learn it again.
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I'd like to have a word for 'the sadness inspired by failing restaurants' as well as for 'the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.
Jeffrey Eugenides