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She felt as if she were brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside her. But there was no release.
Jonathan Safran Foer
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Jonathan Safran Foer
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: February 21
Novelist
Writer
Washington
District of Columbia
Release
Inside
Felt
Always
Love
Brimming
Hoarding
Producing
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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 flipped back through the pad of paper while I thought about what Stephen Hawking would do next.
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He Wrote, Are you OK? I told him, My eyes are crummy. He wrote, But are you OK? I told him, That's a very complicated question. He wrote, That's a very simple answer. I asked, Are you OK? He wrote, Some mornings I wake up feeling grateful.
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I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to shout myself into his ear.
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It is unrealistic to think you can have an inflexible identity that never has to give or take or make compromises.
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Highs and lows make you feel that things matter, but they're nothing. So what's something? Being reliable is something. Being good.
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Isn't it strange how upset people get about a few dozen baseball players taking growth hormones, when we're doing what we're doing to our food animals and feeding them to our children?
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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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Your dad didn't die, so I won't be able to explain it to you.
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....Worthy would-be worlds of words, whorls of working wonder.
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I got tired, I told him. Not worn out, but worn through. Like one of those wives who wakes up one morning and says I can't bake any more bread.
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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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I want an infinitely blank book and the rest of time.
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We are lying to ourselves and to each other. Lying about what? I don't care if we're lying. I am a bad person. I don't care. I don't care what you are.
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I used to think that humor was the only way to appreciate how wonderful and terrible the world is, to celebrate how big life is. But now I think the opposite. Humor is a way of shrinking from that wonderful and terrible world.
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Raising your kids vegetarian is a great way to encourage them to do the opposite of what you want! But the goal is not to have them have the same values that I have. It's to have them act on their values.
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I think it's a greater risk not to write about 9\11. If you're in my position - a New Yorker who felt the event very deeply and a writer who wants to write about things he feels deeply about - I think it's risky to avoid what's right in front of you.
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