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The past is a grenade that explodes when thrown.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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There's no such thing as a limited victory. You must protect what you have won. You must take is seriously.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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It was Hell, if hell is where the life we love cannot exist.
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living
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Jeanette Winterson |
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What we notice in stories is the nearness of the wound to the gift.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Time is not constant and one minute is not the same length as another.
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time
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Jeanette Winterson |
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The grey city and its lost hearts force its way between myself and my healing.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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For the first time in months I felt my body slacken. I had been carrying myself like a gun, cocked, alert, ready for trouble, fearing it.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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It is true that on bright days we are happy. That is true because the sun on the eyelids effects chemical changes in the body. The sun also diminishes the pupils to pinpricks, letting the light in less. When we can hardly see we are most likely to fall in love.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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We were to be the lightest of things, he and I, lifting each other up above the heaviness of life. If was because we knew that gravity is always part of the equation that we tried to defeat it.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Wrong to seal illogic with a kiss but I do it myself all the time.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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We mostly understand ourselves through an endless series of stories told to ourselves by ourselves and others. The so-called facts of our individual worlds are highly coloured and arbitrary, facts that fit whatever reality we have chosen to believe in. . . . It may be that to understand ourselves as fictions, is to understand ourselves as fully as we can.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Very often history is a means of denying the past. Denying the past is to refuse to recognise its integrity. To fit it, force it, function it, to suck out the spirit until it looks the way you think it should. We are all historians in our small way.
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knowledge
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Meatspace still has some advantages for a carbon-based girl.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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There are two questions: where have you come from, and where are you going? But the brain doesn't have separate regions for the past and future; only the present is differentiated by the brain. We split time into three parts. The brain, it seems, splits it twice only: now, and not now.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Our broken society is not born out of the triumph of the individual, but out of his effacement. He vanishes, she vanishes, ask them who they are and they will offer you a wallet or a child.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Passion out of passion's obstacles.
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passion
obsession
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Come again?' She asked. Yes tomorrow, under the sodium street lights, under the tick of the clock. Under my obligations, my history, my fears, this now. This fizzy, giddy all consuming now. I will not let time lie to me. I will not listen to dead voices or unborn pain. "What if?" Has no power against 'what if not?' The not of you is unbearable. I must have you...."
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Jeanette Winterson |
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to create was a fundament, to appreciate, a supplement. Once created, the creature was separate from the creator, and needed no seconding to fully exist.
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existence
oranges-are-not-the-only-fruit
to-create
jeanette-winterson
creation
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Jeanette Winterson |
e9c501f
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Art is enchantment and artists have the right of spells. ... The success of later Shakespeare is the success of spells, where every element, however uneven, however incredible, is fastened to the next with perfect authority. The enchanted world shimmers but does not waver. A Midsummer Night's Dream is the first of his plays to accomplish this, The Tempest is enchantment's apotheosis.
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shakespeare
spells
enchantment
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Our contradictions are never so to ourselves.
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perception
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Jeanette Winterson |
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People have never had a problem disposing of the past when it gets too difficult. Flesh will burn, photos will burn, and memory, what is that?
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Energy cannot be lost, only transformed; where do the words go?
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Odd that a festival to celebrate the most austere of births should end up being all about conspicuous consumption.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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We don't know who we are or how to function, much less how to bloom. Blind nature. Homo sapiens. Who's kidding whom?
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Jeanette Winterson |
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If there's such a thing as spiritual adultery, my mother was a whore.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Bigger questions, questions with more than one answer, questions without an answer are harder to cope with in silence. Once asked they gain dimension and texture, trip you on the stairs, wake you at night-time. A black hole sucks up its surroundings and even light never escapes. Better then to ask no questions?
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Cheer up ye saints of God, There's nothing to worry about; Nothing to make you feel afraid, Nothing to make you doubt; Remember Jesus saves you; So why not trust him and shout, You'll be sorry you worried at all, tomorrow, morning.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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My dear, you are in danger of being burned by your own flame.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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My mother's eyes were like cold stars. She belonged in a different sky.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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If there is another life he will find her there.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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I read that the body remakes itself every seven years. Every cell. Even the bones rebuild themselves like coral. Why then do we remember what should be long gone? What's the point of every scar and humiliation? What is the point of remembering the good times when they are gone? I love you. I miss you. You are dead.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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The night seems more temporary than the day, especially to lovers, and it also seems more uncertain. In this way it sums up our lives, which are uncertain and temporary. We forget about that in the day. In the day we go on for ever.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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There is no sense in forgetting and every sense in dreaming.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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I can tell by now that you are wondering whether I can be trusted as a narrator. Why didn't I dump Inge and head for a Singles Bar? The answer is her breasts.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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The end of every game is an anti-climax. What you thought you would feel you don't feel, what you thought was so important isn't any more. It's the game that's exciting.
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Jeanette Winterson |
7d51cc9
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Pulsar: a dying star spinning under its own exploding anarchic energy, like a lighthouse on speed. A star the size of a city, a city the size of a star, whirling round and round, its death-song caught by a radio receiver, light years later, like a recorded message nobody heard, back-played now into infinity across time. Love and loss.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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I walk the line that continually threatens to lose its tautness under me, dropping me into the dark pit where there is no meaning.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Time has no meaning, space and place have no meaning, on this journey. All times can be inhabited, all places visited. In a single day the mind can make a millpond of the oceans. Some people who have never crossed the land they were born on have travelled all over the world. The journey is not linear, it is always back and forth, denying the calender, the wrinkles and lines of the body. The self is not contained in any moment or any place, ..
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Jeanette Winterson |
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when I was successful, but accused of arrogance, I wanted to drag every journalist who misunderstood to this place, and make them see that for a woman, a working-class woman, to want to be a writer, to want to be a good writer, and to believe that you were good enough, that was not arrogance; that was politics." (Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? p. 103)"
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Jeanette Winterson |
418f286
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It's so crude' complained her mother, who believed in Good Taste the way Sunday worshipers believed in the Immaculate Conception. She wasn't quite sure what it was but she was sure it was important.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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There are two kinds of writing; the one you write and the one that writes you. The one that writes you is dangerous. You go where you don't want to go. You look where you don't want to look.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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The pursuit of happiness is more elusive, it is life long and not goal-centered. Whant you are pusuing is meaning - a meaningful life. The fate the draw that is yours and it isn't fixed, but changing the course of the stream thats going to take a lot of energy. There are times when it will go so wrong that you will barely be alive, and times when your realize that being barely alive , on your own terms, is better then living a bloated half-..
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Somewhere beween the swamp and the mountains. Somewhere beween fear and sex. Somewere beween God and the Devil passion is and the way there is sudden and the way back worse.
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Jeanette Winterson |
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Yes I will come for you. Roll my strength into a ball for you. Throw myself across chance for you. I will be the bridge or the pulley because you are the dream.
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Jeanette Winterson |