Reading is a private pursuit; one that takes place behind closed doors.
Siri HustvedtTags: book-lovers privacy reading-secrets
Correlation is not cause, it is just a 'music of chance'.
Siri HustvedtTags: fate chance-and-fortune
The fictive is an emormous territory it turns out, its boundaries vague, and there is little certainty about where it begins and ends.
Siri HustvedtTags: writing-craft fiction boundaries
Libraries are sexual dream factories. The langour brings it on.
Siri HustvedtTags: libraries sexuality dreams languor
I will turn human anatomy into roses and stars and sea. I will dissect the beloveds body in metaphor.
Siri HustvedtTags: love poetry metaphor anatomy
We chart delusions through collective agreement.
Siri HustvedtTags: philosophy reflective
There is no future without a past, because what is to be cannot be imagined except as a form of repetition.
Siri HustvedtTags: past philosophy reflection
Shorn of intimacy and seen from a considerable distance, we are all comic characters, farcical buffoons who bumble through our lives, making fine messes as we go, but when you get close, the ridiculous quickly fades into the sordid or the tragic or the merely sad. [p. 73]
Siri HustvedtI often felt the girls' speech was interchangeable, without any individuality whatsoever, a kind of herd-speak they had all agreed upon.
Siri HustvedtTags: conformity adolescents cliques on-the-outside outside-looking-in teenage-girls
The transience of human feeling is nothing short of ludicrous. My mercurial fluctuations in the course of a single evening made me feel as if I had a character made pf chewing gum. I had fallen into the ugly depths of self-pity, a terrain just above the even more hideous lowlands of despair. Then, easily distracted twit that I am, I had, soon after, found myself on maternal heights, where I had practically swooned with pleasure as I bobbed and fondled the borrowed homunculus next door. I had eaten well, drunk too much wine, and embraced a young woman I hardly knew. In short, I had thoroughly enjoyed myself and had every intention of doing so again. [p. 59]
Siri HustvedtTags: moods
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