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Who knows what oversensitive is, considering all there is to be sensitive to.

William Maxwell

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William Maxwell
Oversensitive
Considering
Sensitive

More quotes by William Maxwell

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The nail doesn't choose the time or the circumstances in which it is drawn to the magnet
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It was lovely when you found students who responded to things you were enthusiastic about.
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Reading is rapture (or if it isn't, I put the book down meaning to go on with it later, and escape out the side door).
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In talking about the past, we lie with every breath we draw.
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Love, even of the most ardent and soul-destroying kind, is never caught by the lens of the camera.
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A gentleman doesn't have one set of manners for the house of a poor man and another for the house of someone with an income incomparable to his own.
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I had inadvertently walked through a door that I shouldn’t have gone through and couldn’t get back to the place I hadn’t meant to leave.
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If I had had to write only about imaginary people, I would have had to close up my typewriter. I wrote about my life in less and less disguise as I grew older, and finally with no disguise - except the disguise we create for ourselves, which is self-deception.
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His sadness was of the kind that is patient and without hope.
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Happiness is the light on the water. The water is cold and dark and deep.
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It's deprivation that makes people writers, if they have it in them to be a writer.
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What we refer to confidently as memory is really a form of storytelling that goes on continually in the mind and often changes with the telling.
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Your reader is at least as bright as you are
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A writer is a reader who is moved to emulation.
William Maxwell
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If you turn the imagination loose like a hunting dog, it will often return with the bird in its mouth.
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Sometimes she goes out to work as a practical nurse, and comes home and sits by the kitchen table soaking her feet in a pan of hot water and Epsom salts. When she gets into bed and the springs creak under her weight, she groans with the pleasure of lying stretched out on an object that understands her so well.
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The reason life is so strange is that so often people have no choice.
William Maxwell
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I am the cat that walks alone.
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Satin and lace and brown velvet and the faint odor of violets. That was all which was left to him of his love.
William Maxwell
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My younger daughter told me recently that when she was a child she thought the typewriter was a toy that I went into my room and closed the door and played with.
William Maxwell