Bichsel Obituary Quotes & Sayings

OK, publishing a book and releasing a movie is all very well, but Tottenham beating Man. U. 3-2 ... priceless. — Salman Rushdie

I really like people and I keep friendships. I have people from all parts of my life. — Kate Mosse

In the summer of 2010, I was working on a version of 'True Detective' that I was thinking might be my next novel, and it was told in these two first-person voices; Cohle and Hart's voices. — Nic Pizzolatto

So eager for a fairy tale, you create one where it doesn't exist. — J.A. Huss

She lavishes pain with generosity. — Marguerite Duras

My soul's a burden to me, I've had enough of it. I'm eager to be in that country, where the sun kills every question. I don't belong here. — Albert Camus

Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, don't be precious about your first draft, it's an architectural blueprint to a whole building, be your own worst critic, confront your weakness and remember it's a craft. — Tobsha Learner

Thou wayfaring Jesus - a pilgrim and stranger, Exiled from heaven by love at Thy birth: Exiled again from Thy rest in the manger, A fugitive child 'mid the perils of earth - Cheer with Thy fellowship all who are weary, Wandering far from the land that they love: Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary, Safe to its home in Thy presence above. — Henry Van Dyke

Are you saying I'm easy?" she laughs. "No. I'm saying you're always my sure thing. — Georgia Cates

At first Ifemelu thought Kimberly's apologizing sweet, even if unnecessary, but she had begun to feel a flash of impatience, because Kimberly's repeated apologies were tinged with self-indulgence, as though she believed that she could, with apologies, smooth all the scalloped surfaces of the world. — Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

She heard hearts bounce, tears brewing, and breath going backward, but nobody said a word. By the sorrow and loss and sweetness in their faces she knew that they recognized her, and she accepted their hunger as her homage. She thought of the hunter's great-grandmother, and wondered what it must be like to grow old, and to cry. — Peter S. Beagle