You are the only one who has understood even a whisper of me, and I will tell you that I am the only person who has understood even a whisper of you.
JONATHAN SAFRAN FOERIronically, the utterly unselective omnivore — “I’m easy; I’ll eat anything” — can appear more socially sensitive than the individual who tries to eat in a way that is good for society.
More Jonathan Safran Foer Quotes
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No matter how much I feel, I’m not going to let it out. If I have to cry, I’m gonna cry on the inside. If I have to bleed, I’ll bruise. If my heart starts going crazy, I’m not gonna tell everyone in the world about it. It doesn’t help anything. It just makes everyone’s life worse.
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Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want.
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When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible.
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It was one of the best days of my life, a day during which I lived my life and didn’t think about my life at all.
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She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.
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Not responding is a response – we are equally responsible for what we don’t do.
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Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.
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I can only hold on to the things I want to lose.
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I looked at everyone and wondered where they came from, and who they missed, and what they were sorry for.
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I am sure people tell you this constantly but if you looked up ‘incredibly beautiful’ in the dictionary there would be a picture of you.
JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER -
The hardest part of writing is not to get the ideas but to remember, why it is important to get them.
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I wasn’t having second thoughts, but I was having thoughts.
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He promised us that everything would be okay. I was a child, but I knew that everything would not be okay. That did not make my father a liar. It made him my father.
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I could not believe in a God that would challenge faith like this.
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Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our little touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love? Why does anyone ever make love?
JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER