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Books are slow, books are quiet. The Internet is fast and loud.

Jonathan Safran Foer

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Jonathan Safran Foer
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: February 21
Novelist
Writer
Washington
District of Columbia
Slow
Loud
Fast
Quiet
Internet
Books
Book

More quotes by Jonathan Safran Foer

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Chickens can do many things, but they cannot make sophisticated deals with humans.
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And here I am, instead of there. I'm sitting in this library, thousands of miles from my life, writing another letter I know I won't be able to send, no matter how hard I try and how much I want to. How did that boy making love behind that shed become this man writing this letter at this table?
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Every night before putting her to sleep, Yankel counts her ribs, as if one might have disappeared in the course of the day and become the seed and soil for some new companion to steal her away from him.
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What does it remember like?
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Writing's funny, it's like walking down a hall in the dark looking for the light switch, and suddenly you find it, flip it on, and then you discover the hallway you passed through is papered with the novel you've written.
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How did her life live itself without her.
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Sadness of not knowing enough words to [express what you mean].
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I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything
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Time was passing like a hand waving from a train that I wanted to be on.
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I need an office, so I can have a place where I don't write.
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I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it?
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Why do beautiful songs make you sad?' 'Because they aren't true.' 'Never?' 'Nothing is beautiful and true.
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Why didn't he say goodbye? I gave myself a bruise. Why didn't he say 'I love you'?
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I try not to remember the life that I didn’t want to lose but lost and have to remember
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We need a better way to talk about eating animals, a way that doesn't ignore, or even just shruggingly accept things like habits, cravings, family and history, but rather incorporates them into the conversation. The more they are allowed in, the more strongly we will want to follow our best instincts.
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I could tell that Mom was dreaming, but I didn't want to know what she was dreaming about, because I had enough of my own nightmares, and if she had been dreaming something happy, I would have been angry at her for dreaming something happy.
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Only now do I understand the war against boredom, the lost cause of empty hours, of empty days and nights.
Jonathan Safran Foer
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I always write out of a need to read something, rather than a need to write something.
Jonathan Safran Foer
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I got incredibly heavy boots about how relatively insignificant life is, and how, compared to the universe and compared to time, it didn’t even matter if I existed at all.
Jonathan Safran Foer
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August has passed, and yet summer continues by force to grow days. They sprout secretly between the chapters of the year, covertly included between its pages.
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