Language is a finding-place not a hiding place.
Jeanette WintersonTags: writing literature language
Time is a player. Time is part of today, not simply a measure of its passing.
Jeanette WintersonTags: time
In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance.
Jeanette WintersonTags: chance transition space chaos
When I look at my life I realise that the mistakes I have made, the things I really regret, were not errors of judgement but failures of feeling.
Jeanette WintersonIt's only a story, you say. So it is, and the rest of life with it - creation story, love story, horror, crime, the strange story of you and I. The alphabet of my DNA shapes certain words, but the story is not told. I have to tell it myself. What is it that I have to tell myself again and again? That there is always a new beginning, a different end. I can change the story. I am the story. Begin.
Jeanette WintersonTwo things significantly distinguish human beings from the other animals; an interest in the past and the possibility of language. Brought together they make a third: Art. The invisible city not calculated to exist. Beyond the lofty pretensions of the merely ceremonial, long after the dramatic connivings of plitical life, like it or not, it remains. Time past eternally present and undestroyed.
Jeanette WintersonSomewhere between fear and sex passion is.
Jeanette WintersonWhat is remembered is not a deed in stone but a metaphor. Meta = above. Pheren = to carry. That which is carried above the literalness of life. A way of thinking that avoids the problems of gravity. The word won't let me down. The single word that can release me from all that unuttered weight.
Jeanette WintersonThe asynarte city; two rhythms unconnected, profanity, holiness, and out of that strange bed, art.
Jeanette WintersonThe winged word. The mercurial word. The word that is both moth and lamp. The word that is itself and more. the associative word light with meanings. The word not netted by meaning. The exact word wide. The word not whore nor cenobite. The word unlied.
Jeanette WintersonTags: metaphor
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