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We passed over in a sweep of sorrow that would persist into our small forever. We just keep going.

Louise Erdrich

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Louise Erdrich
Age: 70
Born: 1954
Born: June 7
Novelist
Poet
Short Story Writer
Writer
Little Falls
Minnesota
Going
Would
Sweep
Persist
Passed
Sorrow
Small
Forever
Keep

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Here I am, where I ought to be. A writer must have a place where he or she feels this, the place to love and be irritated with.
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We all got holes in our lives. Nobody dies in a perfect garment.
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Every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence. We are aware.
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By writing I can live in ways that I could not survive.
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The contents of a house can trigger all sorts of revisions to family history.
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In order to purify yourself, you have to understand yourself, Father Trais went on. Everything out in the world is also in you. Good, bad, evil, perfection, death, everything. So we study our souls.
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You never know where you're going to find the same thoughts in another brain, but when it happens you know it right off, just like you were connected by a small electrical wire that suddenly glows red hot and sparks.
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I had a very free childhood and ranged around on my bicycle the way boys do. I had few restrictions.
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i want to hear what's happened to you, she said evenly after a while. she gestured in the direction, down river, of the butcher shop. it's just that there is nowhere else to start, she said gently. niether of us is the same. but i'm different because of small, good, manageable things. you're different because ... things i don't know.
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Women don't realize how much store men set on the regularity of their habits. We absorb their comings and goings into our bodies, their rhythms into our bones.
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He despised his body for its boring hungers, reflex anger its petty, obliterating rage. But now he'd become detached. He regarded his body with a tender regret. It was the thing his spirit had to haul.
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You know, some people fall right through the hole in their lives. Its invisible, but they come to it after time, never knowing where.
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Now that I knew fear, I also knew it was not permanent. As powerful as it was, its grip on me would loosen. It would pass.
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They were so strong in their beliefs that there came a time when it hardly mattered what exactly those beliefs were they all fused into a single stubbornness.
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Our songs travel the earth. We sing to one another. Not a single note is ever lost and no song is original. They all come from the same place and go back to a time when only the stones howled.
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To think about love and passion and political correctness all together, it doesn't work. Art has to go way past the political to be effective.
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I can't imagine a home without an overflow of books. The point of books is to have way too many but to always feel you never have enough, or the right one at the right moment, but then sometimes to find you'd longed to fall asleep reading the Aspern Papers, and there it is.
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It is easy to take away the world that we think is so permanent and reliable.
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I have brothers and was a tomboy, if that's still a designation. It wasn't a stretch for me to think and write as a 13-year-old boy - it is freeing.
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I prefer to have some beliefs that don't make logical sense.
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