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Time is the water in which we live, and we breathe it like fish. ... Time pours into us and then pours out again. In between the two pourings we live our destiny.

Louise Erdrich

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Louise Erdrich
Age: 70
Born: 1954
Born: June 7
Novelist
Poet
Short Story Writer
Writer
Little Falls
Minnesota
Breathe
Destiny
Water
Two
Live
Pours
Time
Pouring
Like
Fish
Fishes

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Being a girl didn't really affect me until I entered junior high and had to wear skirts, curl my hair, and even get used to panty hose. However, my hatred of panty hose helped make me a writer who only wears comfortable clothes. I've successfully avoided panty hose for most of my life.
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Freedom, I found is not only in the running but in the heart, the mind, the hands.
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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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To be of mixed blood is a great gift for a writer. I have one foot on tribal lands and one foot in middle-class life.
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The length of sky is just about the size of my ignorance. Pure and wide.
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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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When every inch of the world is known, sleep may be the only wilderness that we have left.
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Can you stop your mother from singing to you? Who would do such a thing?
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I think she is confused by the way I want her, which is like nobody else. I know this deep down. I want her in a new way, a way she's never been told about.
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I make very involved drawings, even little structures, and try using design to figure out the rhythm of a plot. If there are several narrators then a clue has to pop up in the first line. There have to be certain grammatical clues, or distinctive names.
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All of our actions have in their doing the seed of their undoing. ... That in her creation of her children there should be the unspeakable promise of their death, for by their birth she had created mortal beings.
Louise Erdrich
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Cold sinks in, there to stay. And people, they'll leave you, sure. There's no return to what was and no way back. There's just emptiness all around, and you in it, like singing up from the bottom of a well, like nothing else, until you harm yourself, until you are a mad dog biting yourself for sympathy. Because there is no relenting.
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I knew each person's delusion, the places their records had scratched, where the sounds repeated.
Louise Erdrich
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I feel myself becoming less a person than a place, inhabited, a foreign land.
Louise Erdrich
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I got well by talking. Death could not get a word in edgewise, grew discouraged, and traveled on.
Louise Erdrich
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Her clothes were filled with safety pins and hidden tears.
Louise Erdrich
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I prefer to have some beliefs that don't make logical sense.
Louise Erdrich
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Ravens are the birds I'll miss most when I die. If only the darkness into which we must look were composed of the black light of their limber intelligence. If only we did not have to die at all. Instead, become ravens.
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Society is like this card game here, cousin. We got dealt our hand before we were even born, and as we grow we have to play as best as we can.
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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.
Louise Erdrich