“She wanted more, more slang, more figures of speech, the bee’s knees, the cats pajamas, horse of a different color, dog-tired, she wanted to talk like she was born here, like she never came from anywhere else”

When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible.

Most of the times that I think about my relationship to Judaism, I not only accuse myself of a shallowness, but I feel certain that there’s a shallowness there. That’s not a bad thing, really.

Why didn’t I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

I don’t think that there are any limits to how excellent we could make life seem.

Feeding my children is not like feeding myself: it matters more.

I can forgive you for leaving, but not for coming back.

He was someone whom everyone admired and liked but whom nobody knew. He was like a book that you could feel good holding, that you could talk about without ever having read, that you could recommend.

What does it remember like?

I took the world into me, rearranged it, and sent it back out as a question: “Do you like me?

Fiction works when it makes a reader feel something strongly.

We shared the smile of recognizing ourselves in each other, how many imposters do I have? Do we all make the same mistakes, or has one of us gotten it right, or even just a bit less wrong, am I the imposter?

My wife and I have chosen to bring up our children as vegetarians. In another time or place, we might have made a different decision. But the realities of our present moment compelled us to make that choice.

With writing, we have second chances.

Sadness of not knowing enough words to [express what you mean].

Why are you leaving me? He wrote, I do not know how to live. I do not know either but I am trying. I do not know how to try. There were some things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So i buried them and let them hurt me

Please be truthful, but also please be benevolent, please.

Beneath the armor of skin/and/bone/and/mind most of our colors are amazingly the same.

Dreams dress us carefully in the colors of power and faith.

The death of a dream can in fact serve as the vehicle that endows it with new form, with reinvigorated substance, a fresh flow of ideas, and splendidly revitalized color.

His lips touched mine and suddenly all the colors in the world hit me at full force.

I advise students on the subject of color as follows: If it looks good enough to eat, use it.

This film [ Blue is the Warmest Color] actually is the result of me talking with my producer Vincent [Maraval].

If I see everything in gray, and in gray all the colors which I experience and which I would like to reproduce, then why should I use any other color?

Stothard learned the art of combining colors by closely studying butterflies wings; he would often say that no one knew what he owed to these tiny insects. A burnt stick and a barn door served Wilkie in lieu of pencil and canvas.