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We’d hoped for love of a different kind, love that knew and forgave our human frailty but did not miniaturize our grander ideas of ourselves.

Michael Cunningham

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Michael Cunningham
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: November 6
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
University Teacher
Writer
Cincinnati
Ohio
Human
Humans
Forgave
Different
Grander
Kind
Frailty
Love
Hoped
Knew
Ideas

More quotes by Michael Cunningham

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..this indiscriminate love feels entirely serious to her, as if everything in the world is part of a vast, inscrutable intention and everything in the world has its own secret name, a name that cannot be conveyed in language but is simply the sight and feel of the thing itself.
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. . . he felt himself entering a moment so real he could only run toward it, shouting.
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Accept that, like many men, you have a streak of the homoerotic in you. Why would you, why would anyone, want to be that straight?
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There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more.
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Dead, we are revealed in our true dimensions, and they are surprisingly modest.
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Perhaps, in the extravagance of youth, we give away our devotions easily and all but arbitrarily, on the mistaken assumption that we’ll always have more to give.
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I have no useful theories about love and marriage.
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I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.
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The lives great artists live and the books they write are two very different things.
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I just don't feel much interested in the lifestyles of the rich and famous.
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Love is deep, a mystery - who wants to understand its every particular?
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You can't find peace by avoiding life.
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Silly humans. Banging on a tub to make a bear dance when we would move the stars to pity.
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It's the world, you live in it, even if some boy has made a fool of you.
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One always has a better book in one's mind than one can manage to get onto paper.
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I revise constantly, as I go along and then again after I've finished a first draft. Few of my novels contain a single sentence that closely resembles the sentence I first set down. I just find that I have to keep zapping and zapping the English language until it starts to behave in some way that vaguely matches my intentions.
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we become the stories we tell ourselves
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The secret of flight is this -- you have to do it immediately, before your body realizes it is defying the laws.
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You want to give him the book of his own life, the book that will locate him, parent him, arm him for the changes.
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I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then.
Michael Cunningham