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I took the world into me, rearranged it, and sent it back out as a question: Do you like me?

Jonathan Safran Foer

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Jonathan Safran Foer
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: February 21
Novelist
Writer
Washington
District of Columbia
World
Rearranged
Sent
Took
Question
Back
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She maintained a careful balance by her window, never allowing the men to come too close, never allowing them to stray too far.
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As a writer, putting words on the page is how I pay attention.
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...because he had been waiting for someone to come back to him, so every time someone knocked on the door, he couldn't stop himself from hoping it might be that person, even though he knew he shouldn't hope.
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I zipped myself all the way into the sleeping bag of myself, not because I was hurt, and not because I had broken something, but because they were cracking up.
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The end of suffering does not justify the suffering, what a mess I am, I thought, what a fool, how foolish and narrow, how worthless, how pinched and pathetic, how helpless.
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Is there really anyone, besides Rudy Giuliani, who prefers the new Times Square?
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In truth I was manufacturing a brick wall of shits.
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I wouldn't want a boy to think I was pretty unless he was the kind of boy who thought I was pretty.
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Memory was supposed to fill the time, but it made time a hole to be filled. Each second was two hundred yards, to be walked, crawled. You couldn't see the next hour, it was so far in the distance. Tomorrow was over the horizon, and would take an entire day to reach.
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Mom told me, “It probably gets pretty lonely to be Grandma, don’t you think?” I told her, “It probably gets pretty lonely to be anyone
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We live in a world made up more of story than stuff. We are creatures of memory more than reminders, of love more than likes.
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Try to live so that you can always tell the truth.
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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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He was someone whom everyone admired and liked but whom nobody knew. He was like a book that you could feel good holding, that you could talk about without ever having read, that you could recommend.
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He promised us that everything would be okay. I was a child, but I knew that everything would not be okay. That did not make my father a liar. It made him my father.
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Grandfather kicked the stop pedal, and my face gave a high-five to the front window.
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I've never particularly liked bankers.
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It’s much easier to be cruel than one might think.
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We were quiet on the car ride home. I turned on the radio and found a station playing Hey Jude. It was true, I didn't want to make it bad. I wanted to take the sad song and make it better. It's just that I didn't know how.
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