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She won't give him back his look.
Raymond Carver
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Raymond Carver
Age: 50 †
Born: 1938
Born: May 25
Died: 1988
Died: August 2
Author
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Screenwriter
Writer
Clatskanie
Oregon
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More quotes by Raymond Carver
That's all we have, finally, the words, and they had better be the right ones.
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Every great or even every very good writer makes the world over according to his own specifications.
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Happiness. It comes on unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really, any early morning talk about it.
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A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house. Except for the chrome hooks, he was an ordinary-looking man of fifty or so.
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My heart is broken,” she goes. “It’s turned to a piece of stone. I’m no good. That’s what’s as bad as anything, that I’m no good anymore.
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There was this funny thing of anything could happen now that we realized everything had.
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I think a little menace is fine to have in a story. For one thing, it's good for the circulation.
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Then I said something. I said, Suppose, just suppose, nothing had ever happened. Suppose this was for the first time. Just suppose. It doesn't hurt to suppose. Say none of the other had ever happened. You know what I mean? Then what? I said.
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Life and death matters, yes. And the question of how to behave in this world, how to go in the face of everything. Time is short and the water is rising.
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We knew our days were numbered. We had fouled up our lives and we were getting ready for a shake-up.
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Don’t complain, don’t explain.
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there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.
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You're a beautiful drunk, daughter. But you're a drunk.
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Fiction shows the external effects of internal conditions. Be aware of the tension between internal and external movement.
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Honey, no offense, but sometimes I think I could shoot you and watch you kick.
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I guess my writing has changed as my life has.
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There was a time when I thought I loved my first wife more than life itself. But now I hate her guts. I do. How do you explain that? What happened to that love? What happened to it, is what I'd like to know. I wish someone could tell me.
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My life is going to change. I feel it.
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Dreams, you know, are what you wake up from.
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You have to have been in love to write poetry.
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