Hollinghurst Books Quotes & Sayings

I think being an only child created in me a degree of self-reliance, which I'm glad of. It made me perfectly happy with my own company and perhaps was good conditioning for the protracted solitude of writing books as slowly as I do. — Alan Hollinghurst

The fact remains that books that really put gay people in the center, and especially books that do so in a way that is sexually explicit, tend not to get a great deal of mainstream attention: they don't tend to sell well, and they don't tend to win major awards. This makes the occasional exception, like Alan Hollinghurst, all the more remarkable. — Garth Greenwell

Where once Kathryn had embraced a delicate child in the body of a young woman, now she received the tenderness of a mother's love from a spirit grown unimaginably old. — Kirsten Beyer

Many would have disliked to live, if possessed of the peculiar features of Arthur Jermyn, but he had been a poet and a scholar and had not minded. — H.P. Lovecraft

It is the stillness that will save and transform the world. — Eckhart Tolle

I know it's my fault I should've gave more. — Tyga

Mr. Starr, have you no shame? Facts and law are always subordinated to the will of the American people. — William H. Ginsburg

The susceptibility of the average modern to pictorial suggestion enables advertising to exploit his lessened power of judgment. — Johan Huizinga

She felt something similar, but worse in a way, about hundreds and hundreds of books she'd read, novels, biographies, occasional books, about music and art - she could remember nothing about them at all, so that it seemed rather pointless even to say that she had read them; such claims were things people set great store by but she hardly supposed they recalled any more than she did. Sometimes a book persisted as a coloured shadow at the edge of sight, as vague and unrecapturable as something seen in the rain from a passing vehicle; looked at directly it vanished altogether. Sometimes there were atmospheres, even the rudiments of a scene; a man in an office looking over Regent's Park, rain in the street outside - a little blurred etching of a situation she would never, could never, trace back to its source in a novel she had read some time, she thought, in the past thirty years. — Alan Hollinghurst

She kept sliding down, in small half-willing surrenders, till she was a heap, with the book held tiringly above her face. — Alan Hollinghurst