If I can’t write it would be as if I died.
CHRIS CLEAVEAt this point in time the war [ WWII] is close enough to still feel hotly personal to a writer, yet far enough away so that jingoism and heroics are no longer required.
More Chris Cleave Quotes
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A scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. A scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.
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I planned how I would kill myself in the time of Churchill (stand under bombs), Victoria (throw myself under a horse), and Henry the Eighth (marry Henry the Eighth)- Little Bee
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Nobody has the time to sit down and explain the first world from first principles.
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Horror in your country is something you take a dose of to remind yourself that you are not suffering from it.
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This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on.
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Everyone carries the weight of WWII with them in their recent family history, and yet it is rarely spoken about within families, because veterans and survivors don’t tend to talk.
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I’m always determined that as a novelist I’m going to go out there and research my characters very thoroughly before I start writing.
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Still shaking, in the pew, I understood that it isn’t the dead we cry for. We cry for ourselves, and I didn’t deserve my own pity.
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I know that the hopes of this whole human world can fit inside one soul.
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[My maternal grandmother ] was a teacher in London and elsewhere during the war, although the children she taught were not the “lost children” who feature in the novel – those come from my research.
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To be well in your mind you have first to be free.
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We no longer need to show people being brave: instead, we can examine how they became brave. We can assume that they didn’t start out that way. If we allow that they started out just like us, then their journey into courage becomes both more fascinating and more impressive.
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Andrew had a gift for deepening the incision he began.
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We were exiles from reality that summer. We were refugees from ourselves.
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And thus love makes fools of us all.
CHRIS CLEAVE