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The dead live. How do they live? By love.

John Fowles

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John Fowles
Age: 79 †
Born: 1926
Born: March 31
Died: 2005
Died: November 5
Essayist
Novelist
Screenwriter
Teacher
Writer
Leigh-on-Sea
Essex
Dead
Live
Love

More quotes by John Fowles

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The most important questions in life can never be answered by anyone except oneself.
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There is only one good definition of God: the freedom that allows other freedoms to exist.
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Baseball and cricket are beautiful and highly stylized medieval war substitutes, chess made flesh, a mixture of proud chivalry and base-in both senses-greed.
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There are some men who are consoled by the idea that there are women less attractive than their wives and others who are haunted by the knowledge that there are more attractive.
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The profoundest distances are never geographical.
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Science disembodies art embodies.
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The best wines take the longest to mature.
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Liking other people is an illusion we have to cherish in ourselves if we are to live in society.
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That's the trouble with provincial life. Everyone knows everyone and there is no mystery. No romance.
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Duty is but a pot. It holds whatever is put in it, from the greatest evil to the greatest good.
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The American myth is of free will in its simple, primary sense. One can choose oneself and will oneself and this absurdly optimistic assumption so dominates the republic that it has bred all its gross social injustices.
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We chase the reward, we get the reward and then we discover that the true reward is always the next reward. Buying pleasure is a false end.
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The absurdly neurotic role you and the rest of your kind have always attributed to me Erato, the Goddess Muse of Erotic Poetry bears no relation at all to reality. As a matter of fact, I was trained as a clinical psychologist. Who simply happens to have specialized in the mental illness that you, in your ignorance, call literature.
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The great majority of modern third-person narration is I narration very thinly disguised.
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One degrades oneself sometimes in the effort not to be lonely.
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Greece is like a mirror. It makes you suffer. Then you learn.' To live alone?' To live. With what you are.
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His statement to himself should have been, 'I possess this now, therefore I am happy', instead of what it so Victorianly was: I cannot possess this for ever, and therefore am sad.
John Fowles
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I am one in a row of specimens. It's when I try to flutter out of line that he hates me. I'm meant to be dead, pinned, always the same, always beautiful. He knows that part of my beauty is being alive. but it's the dead me he wants. He wants me living-but-dead.
John Fowles
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To write poetry and to commit suicide, apparently so contradictory, had really been the same, attempts at escape.
John Fowles
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You wish to be liked. I wish simply to be. One day you will know what that means, perhaps. And you will smile. Not against me. But with me.
John Fowles