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Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our little touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love? Why does anyone ever make love?
Jonathan Safran Foer
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Jonathan Safran Foer
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: February 21
Novelist
Writer
Washington
District of Columbia
Many
Fingers
Sometimes
Anyone
Make
Doe
Stitching
Love
Together
Brushing
Littles
Touches
Ever
Imagined
Little
Hundreds
Take
Thousands
More quotes by Jonathan Safran Foer
I want an infinitely blank book and the rest of time.
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You're incredibly beautiful,' I told her, because she was fat, so I thought it would be an especially nice compliment, and also make her like me again, even though I was sexist.
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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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But come. No explaining or mending. Be beside me somewhere.
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We eat as sons and daughters, as families, as communities, as generations, as nations, and increasingly as a globe. We can't stop our eating from radiating influence even if we want to.
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It’s a rule that we never listen to sad music, we made that rule early on, songs are as sad as the listener, we hardly ever listen to music.
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Dear Anna, we will live in a home with no walls, so that everywhere we go will be our home.
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Grandfather kicked the stop pedal, and my face gave a high-five to the front window.
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Time was passing like a hand waving from a train that I wanted to be on.
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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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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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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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I think after you live it's like before you lived.
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I took the world into me, rearranged it, and sent it back out as a question: Do you like me?
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Abraham responds Here I am when God asks him to sacrifice his son, and he answers Here I am when his son asks him about what is happening. It's a paradoxical moment. He can't be fully present for his God or his son.
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It is not a thing that you can imagine. It only is. After that, there can be no imagining.
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[She] always knew he was a fiction but believed in him anyway.
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Everything that's born has to die, which means our lives are like skyscrapers. The smoke rises at different speeds, but they're all on fire, and we're all trapped.
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