Danielewski Quotes & Sayings

The finest act of seeing is necessarily always the act of not seeing something else. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Physics depends on a universe infinitely centred on an equals sign. — Mark Z. Danielewski

It is hungry, it it immortal. Worse, it knows nothing of whim. — Mark Z. Danielewski

But tomorrow came faster than expected, as if the future were never somewhere else, but all along part of the fabric of every present, merely untwining itself again and again into a new distinction that could never be new again. — Mark Z. Danielewski

To read" actually comes from the Latin reri "to calculate, to think" which is not only the progenitor of "read" but of "reason" as well, both of which hail from the Greek arariskein "to fit." Aside from giving us "reason," arariskein also gives us an unlikely sibling, Latin arma meaning "weapons." It seems that "to fit" the world or to make sense of it requires either reason or arms. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Knowledge is hot water on wool. It shrinks time and space. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Why did god create a dual universe?
So he might say
'Be not like me. I am alone.'
And it might be heard. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share. — Mark Z. Danielewski

The greatest love letters are always encoded for the one and not the many. — Mark Z. Danielewski

To repeat: her voice has life. It possesses a quality not present in the original, revealing how a nymph can return a different and more meaningful story, in spite of telling the same story. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Myth makes Echo the subject of longing and desire. Physics makes Echo the subject of distance and design. Where emotion and reason are concerned both claims are accurate. And where there is no Echo there is no description of space or love. There is only science. — Mark Z. Danielewski

And where there is no Echo there is no description of space or love. There is only silence. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Wake & Bake. More like Wash & Bake. Half a bowl of cereal and a shot of bourbon later, I'm there, my friendly haze having finally arrived. I'm ready for work. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Literature is capable of being a subject that people want to catch up on or discuss, whether at a coffee shop or a watercooler. It can become an intrinsic part of their dialogue. — Mark Z. Danielewski

If not, let me offer you some instruction in at least one area: get thee to a dictionary and be relentless about your visits there. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Love's love in her blackest season. — Mark Z. Danielewski

All I have to do is extend my hand but I can't run that far. — Mark Z. Danielewski

People frequently comment on the emptiness in one night stands, but emptiness here has always been just another word for darkness. Blind encounters writing sonnets no one can ever read. Desire and pain communicated in the vague language of sex.
None of which made sense to me until much later when I realized everything I thought I'd retained of my encounters added up to so very little, hardly enduring, just shadows of love outlining nothing at all. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Scientists estimate the universe unfolded from its state of infinite destiny* - a moment commonly referred to as "the big bang" - approximately 1.3-2 x 10^10 years ago.

*Typo: "destiny" should read "density. — Mark Z. Danielewski

So often I wonder whether it is my right to capitalize, as I feel, so often, on the grief of others. But then I justify, in my own particular thoughts, by feeling that I can contribute a little to the understanding of what others are going through; then there is reason for doing it. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I was twelve miles from no where. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Anger is one way to respond to fear. I say one way because responses are categorically multiple. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I took my morning walk, I took my evening walk, I ate something, I thought about something, I wrote, I napped and dreamt something too, and with all that something, I still have nothing because so much of sum'thing has always been and always will be you.
I miss you. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Maybe it hadn't entered my head at all. Maybe it had just brushed past me, like someone easing by in a dark room, the face lost in shadow, my thoughts lost in another conversation, though something in her movement or perfume is disturbingly familiar, though how familiar is impossible to tell because by the time I realize she's someone I should know she's already gone, deep into the din, beyond the bar, taking with her any chance of recognition. Though she hasn't left. She's still there. Embracing shadows. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I'm so tired. Sleep's been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Some people reflect light, some deflect it, you by some miracle, seem to collect it. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I'm a big believer in big books, and that doesn't necessarily mean long books. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Stars to live by. Stars to steer by. Stars to die by. — Mark Z. Danielewski

The ruminations are mine, let the world be yours. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Of course there always will be darkness but I realize now something inhabits it. Historical or not. Sometimes it seems like a cat, the panther with its moon mad gait or a tiger with stripes of ash and eyes as wild as winter oceans. Sometimes it's the curve of a wrist or what's left of romance, still hiding in the drawer of some long lost nightstand or carefully drawn in the margins of an old discarded calendar. Sometimes it's even just a vapor trail speeding west, prophetic, over clouds aglow with dangerous light. Of course these are only images, my images, and in the end they're born out of something much more akin to a Voice, which though invisible to the eye and frequently unheard by even the ear still continues, day and night, year after year, to sweep through us all. — Mark Z. Danielewski

It's too annoying. Too me. — Mark Z. Danielewski

You wouldn't believe how much harder it's getting for me to just leave my studio. It's really sad. In fact these days the only thing that gets me outside is when I say: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. — Mark Z. Danielewski

However, The haven-Slocum Theory also points out that this course is not without risk. An even greater number of people dwelling on The Navidson Record have shown an increase in obsessiveness, insomnia, and incoherence: Most of those who chose to abandon their interest soon recovered. A few, however, required counseling and in some instances medication and hospitalization. Three cases resulted in suicide. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Of course curiosity killed the cat, and even if satisfaction supposedly brought it back, there's still that little problem with the man on the radio telling me more and more about some useless information. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Since when did you bring a gun?" Navidson asks, crouching near the door.
"Are you kidding me? This place is scary. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Little solace comes
to those who grieve
when thoughts keep drifting
as walls keep shifting
and this great blue world of ours
seems a house of leaves
moments before the wind. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Hopefully you'll be able to make sense of what I can represent though still fail to understand. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I do not know anything about Art with a capital A. What I do know about is my art. Because it concerns me. I do not speak for others. So I do not speak for things which profess to speak for others. My art, however, speaks for me. It lights my way. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I believe the structure of 'House of Leaves' is far more difficult to explain than it is to read. And while I'd like to lay claim to some extraordinary act of originality, truth is I'm only taking advantage of capabilities inherent in everyone. — Mark Z. Danielewski

The world only mattered because people lived there and sometimes, in spite of the pain, tragedy, and degradation, even managed to triumph there. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Which in the gray of gentler eyes will prove far more than any of us could ever need; 'enough' we will shout, 'enough!' our bellies full, our hearts full, our ages full; fullness and greater fullness and even more fullness; how then we will laugh and forget how imagining has already left us. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Sublime is something you choke on after a shot of tequila. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I miss u i love you
there's no second ive lived you can't call your own — Mark Z. Danielewski

I'm not independently wealthy. — Mark Z. Danielewski

'House of Leaves' is certainly about the unsettling nature of fear - and it was my aim to address that - but it's also about recovering from fear. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Losing the possibility of something is the exact same thing as losing hope and without hope nothing can survive. — Mark Z. Danielewski

She said memories mean all, but they are all dead. — Mark Z. Danielewski

...recogniz[ing] the dangerous influence the unknown naturally has on everyone." P.60 — Mark Z. Danielewski

I think that's what finally stopped me. I slid right to the edge. My legs were hanging over. And I could feel it too. I don't know how. There was no wind, no sound, no change of temperature. There was just this terrible emptiness reaching up for me. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Get thee to a dictionary and be relentless about your visits there. p. 591 — Mark Z. Danielewski

Riddles: They either delight or torment. Their delight lies in solutions. Answers provide bright moments of comprehension perfectly suited for children who still inhabit a world where solutions are readily available. Implicit in the riddle's form is a promise that the rest of the world resolves just as easily. And so riddles comfort the child's mind which spins wildly before the onslaught of so much information and so many subsequent questions.
The adult world, however, produces riddles of a different variety. They do not have answers and are often called enigmas or paradoxes. Still the old hint of the riddle's form corrupts these questions by the echoing the most fundamental lesson: there must be an answer. From there comes torment. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Not all complex problems have easy solutions; so says science (so warns science.) — Mark Z. Danielewski

My dear girl, is it that you are so lonely that you had to create this? — Mark Z. Danielewski

There is only a black fence
and a wide field and a barn of Wyeth red.
The smell of anger chokes the air.
Ravens of September rain descend.
Some say a mad mad hermit man lived here
talking to himself and the woodchuck.
But he's gone. No reason. No sense.
He just wandered off one day,
past the onions, past the fence.
Forget the letters. Forget love.
Troy is nothing more than
a black finger of charcoal
frozen in lake ice.
And near where the owl watches
and the old bear dreams,
the parapet of memory burns to the ground
taking heaven with it. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Quick note here: if this crush-slash-swooning stuff is hard for you to stomach; if you've never had a similar experience, then you should come to grips with the fact that you've got a TV dinner for a heart and might want to consider climbing inside a microwave and turning it on high for at least an hour, which if you do consider only goes to show what kind of idiot you truly are because microwaves are way too small for anyone, let alone you, to climb into. — Mark Z. Danielewski

My hands resemble some ancient tree: the roots that bind up the earth, the rock and the ceaselessly nibbling wordms. — Mark Z. Danielewski

She still cannot resist looking out the window every couple of minutes. The sound of a passing truck causes her to glance away. Even if there is no sound, the weight of a hundred seconds always turns her head. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Perhaps in the margins of darkness, I could create a son who is not missing; who lives beyond even my own imagination and invention; whose lusts, stupidities, and strengths carry him farther than even he or I can anticipate; who sees the world for what it is; and consequently bears the burden of everyone's tomorrow with unprecedented wisdom and honor because he is one of the very few who has successfully interrogated his own nature. His shields are instantly available though seldom used. And those who value him shall prosper while those who would destroy him shall perish. He will fulfill a promise I made years ago but failed to keep. — Mark Z. Danielewski

He is a stem, a husk, barren and thin, withered by sun, erased by wind, emptied by seasons of dullness, marked by seconds of duty, scarred by regret only the faintest of lines dare to write out, which no one, not even him, can interpret anymore. People have told him a crow will reveal more than anything his face has to share. — Mark Z. Danielewski

For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You'll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you'll realize it's always been shifting, like a shimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won't understand why or how. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Death, it turns out, is the mother of all conflicts. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Symbols shmimbols. Sure they're important but ... Well look at Ahab's whale. Now there's a great symbol. Some say it stands for god, meaning, and purpose. Others say it stands for purposelessness and the void. But what we sometimes forget is that Ahab's whale was also just a whale. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Our newness lies only in parts rearranged. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I want something else. I'm not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it's drenched in sunlight and it's weightless and I know it's not cheap. It's probably not even real. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Very soon he will vanish completely in the wings of his own wordless stanza. [ ] but his stanza is not completely empty [ * ] — Mark Z. Danielewski

You got a death wish, Truant?' Which was the thing that scared me. 'Cause maybe I did. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I am not a fool. I am wise. I will run from my fear, I will outdistance my fear, then I will hide from my fear, I will wait for my fear, I will let my fear run past me, then I will follow my fear, I will track my fear until I can approach my fear in complete silence, then I will strike at my fear, I will charge my fear, I will grab hold of my fear, I will sink my fingers into my fear, then I will bite my fear, I will tear the throat of my fear, I will break the neck of my fear, I will drink the blood of my fear, I will gulp the flesh of my fear, I will crush the bones of my fear, and I will savor my fear, I will swallow my fear, all of it, and then I will digest my fear until I can do nothing else but shit out my fear. In this way I will be made stronger — Mark Z. Danielewski

Explanation is not half as strong as experience but experience is not half as strong as experience and understanding — Mark Z. Danielewski

I've come to believe errors, especially written errors, are often the only markers left by a solitary life: to sacrifice them is to lose the angles of personality, the riddle of a soul. In this case a very old soul. A very old riddle. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Who has never killed an hour? ... — Mark Z. Danielewski

Through all the windows I only see infinity. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Love of love written by the broken hearted, love of life written by the dead. — Mark Z. Danielewski

This is why classical thought concerning structure could say that the center is, paradoxically, within the structure and outside it. The center is at the center of the totality, and yet, since the center does not belong to the totality (is not part of the totality), the totality has its center elsewhere. The center is not the center. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Keep true to the rare music in your heart, to the marvelous and unique form that is and shall always be nothing else but you. Keep to that and you can do no wrong, which I realize is easier said than done. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I guess I'm hoping the weapons will make me feel better, grant me some kind of fucking control, especially if I sense the dullness inside me get too heavy and thick, warning me that something is again approaching, creeping slowly towards my room, no figment of my imagination either but as tangible as you and I, never ceasing to scratch, waiting, perhaps for a word or an order or some other kind of sign to at last initiate this violent and by now inevitable confrontation - always as full of wrath as I am full of fear. — Mark Z. Danielewski

And there you have it, another body on the floor surrounded by things that don't mean much to anyone except to the one who can't take any of them along. — Mark Z. Danielewski

The seriousness of emotional deprivation:
It is not difficult to understand how children who have suffered from malnutrition or starvation need food and plenty of care in their bodies are to recover so they can go on to lead normal lives. If, however, the starvation is severe enough, the damage will be permanent and they will suffer physical impairments for the rest of their lives. Likewise, children who are deprived of emotional nurturing require care and love if their sense of security and self-confidence is to be restored. However, if love is minimal and abuse high, the damage will be permanent and the children will suffer emotional impairments for the rest of their lives. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Aside from recurrance, revision, and commensurate symbolic reference, echoes also reveal emptiness. Since objects always impede acoustic reflection, only empty places can create echoes of lasting clarity. — Mark Z. Danielewski

One forgets that one is one. I must try to remember this. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Her smile, I'm sure, burnt Rome to the ground. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Here then at long last is my darkness. No cry of light, no glimmer, not even the faintest shard of hope to break free across the hold. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Absolutely nothing visible to the eye provides a reason for or even evidence of those terrifying shifts which can in a matter of moments reconstitute a simple path into an extremely complicated one. — Mark Z. Danielewski

We all create stories to protect ourselves. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Do not wake me from this slumber, but be assured that just as I have wept much, I have also wandered many roads with my thoughts. — Mark Z. Danielewski

What is boredom? Endless repetitions, like, for example, Navidson's corridors and rooms, which are consistently devoid of any Myst-like discoveries thus causing us to lose interest. What then makes anything exciting? Or better yet: what is exciting? While the degree varies, we are always excited by anything that engages us, influences us or more simply involves us. In those endlessly repetitive hallways and stairs, there is nothing for us to connect with. That permanently foreign place does not excite us. It bores us. And that is that, except for the fact that there is no such thing as boredom. Boredom is really a psychic defense protecting us from ourselves, from complete paralysis, by repressing, among other things, the meaning of that place, which in this case is and always has been horror. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Prometheus, thief of light, giver of light, bound by the gods, must have been a book. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Write what you love. Love will hold you through the hard times and hold the world during the good times. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Irony? Irony can never be more than our own personal Maginot line; the drawing of it, for the most part, purely arbitrary. — Mark Z. Danielewski

You shall be my roots and
I will be your shade,
though the sun burns my leaves.
You shall quench my thirst and
I will feed you fruit,
though time takes my seed.
And when I'm lost and can tell nothing of this earth
you will give me hope.
And my voice you will always hear.
And my hand you will always have.
For I will shelter you.
And I will comfort you.
And even when we are nothing left,
not even in death,
I will remember you. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Okay, you can be my slave.
My flying kick nicks his nose.
A warning. Worse if I weren't
succumbing to squeal.
What a feel.
I'm too multiple to feel.
A fork ahead.
I take both. — Mark Z. Danielewski

- Whenever we roam be beside me.
When you're allone. When you go.
When no one comes along. And for all we
Wander. Encounter and open
Allways curl up with me.
Give me pain, past and fury.
Betray my way. I won't abandon you.- — Mark Z. Danielewski

Tom gets by, Navidson succeeds. Tom just wants to be, Navidson must become. And yet despite such obvious differences, anyone who looks past Tom's wide grin and considers his eyes will find surprisingly deep pools of sorrow. Which is how we know they are brothers, because like Tom, Navidson's eyes share the same water. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Not only had Navidson carried Karen out of that house, he had picked her up a hundred times over the course of eleven years and carried her fear, her torment, and her distance. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Everyone loves the Dream but I kill it. — Mark Z. Danielewski

What can I say, I'm a sucker for abandoned stuff, misplaced stuff, forgotten stuff, any old stuff which despite the light of progress and all that, still vanishes every day like shadows at noon, goings unheralded, passings unourned, well, you get the drift. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Unoccupied space will never cease to change simply because nothing forbids it to do so. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Stories heard but not recalled. Letters too. Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells. Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp cracked. Traveling at murderous speed. Tearing through it all in a very, very bad inreparable way. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Do we miss not only the past but every future the lost past describes? Is that just the nature of missing? All the lost might-have-beens? The certainty that those uncertain futures are gone? If we can't embrace uncertainty do we miss the point of love? — Mark Z. Danielewski

All I hope for is one moment of rational thought and a shot at action before I'm lost to a great saddening madness, pithed at the hands of my own stumbling biology.

[Johnny Truant] — Mark Z. Danielewski

No gunfire, famine, or flies. Just lots of toothpaste, gardening and people stuff. — Mark Z. Danielewski