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In the end I didn't know who I was crying for, but it was something my body wanted to do, as though trying to digest grief.

Simon Van Booy

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Simon Van Booy
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Body
Wanted
Digest
Trying
Crying
Something
Grief
Cry
Though
Didn
Ends

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It's true the people we meet shape us. But the people we don't meet shape us also, often more because we have imagined them so vividly. There are people we yearn for but never seem to meet.
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Love is also a violence, and cannot be undone.
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Sometimes, language is the sound of longing
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I want to do things for people they will never forget. Maybe that’s the best thing I can do in life.
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We touched with a softness that pushed through the skin into memory, like arms plunged into a river - we could feel the weight of each other's stones.
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It’s the greatest legacy you could ever leave your children or your loved ones: the history of how you felt.
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When somebody leaves this plane—or, if you like, goes into another room—those left behind sometimes try and stop loving—but this is a mistake, because even if you have loved only once in your life, you’re ruined.
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I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment - we are all defined by something we can’t change.
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Coincidences mean you're on the right path.
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Everything that we love will, at some point, be taken away from us. If I think about everyone I love eventually being taken away from me by death, or simply by getting lost from each other in the world, it makes me value them much more now. And I'm much less likely to be indifferent. For me, indifference is the end of life.
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But those who seek only reassurance from life will never be more than tourists—seeing everything and trying to possess what can only be felt. Beauty is the shadow of imperfection.
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Royal Young's writing is that rare blend of irony and beauty.
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Life just swallows you up, doesn't it?Just swallows you up with its everyday things
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Succes is really nothing more than the record of failure. To be successful means you must be willing to fail more than anyone else.
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I think music is what language once aspired to be. Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life.
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I wonder if things can happen too early or too late or if everything happens at exactly the right time. If so, how sad and beautiful.
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Language is like looking at a map of somewhere. Love is living there and surviving on the land.
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If you travel too often, you actually come face-to-face with what you're trying to escape. I feel like when I travel alone, sometimes it's like being locked in a hotel room with my own worst enemy.
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When Bach died some of his children sold his scores to the butcher they had decided the paper was more useful for wrapping meat. In a small village in Germany a father brought home a limp goose wrapped in paper that was covered with strange and beautiful symbols.
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The beauty of artifacts is in how they reassure us we’re not the first to die.
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