Michael Cunningham Quotes
We’d hoped for love of a different kind, love that knew and forgave our human frailty but did not miniaturize our grander ideas of ourselves.
Accept that, like many men, you have a streak of the homoerotic in you. Why would you, why would anyone, want to be that straight?
I know, speaking for myself, no matter what I'm able to do, no matter what book comes out and ends up on paper, I always had something bigger and grander in my head.
Oh, all you immigrants and visionaries, what do you hope to find here, who do you hope to become?
You grow weary of being treated as the enemy simply because you are not young anymore; because you dress unexceptionally.
Perhaps, in the extravagance of youth, we give away our devotions easily and all but arbitrarily, on the mistaken assumption that we’ll always have more to give.
The implication of this particular tale is: Trust strangers. Believe in magic.
It’s better, really, to go out in a blaze. That’s why we love Marilyn, and James Dean. We love the ones who walk right into the fire.
She could, she thinks, have entered a different life. She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.
This love of theirs, with its reassuring domesticity and its easy silences, its permanence, has yoked Sally directly to the machinery of mortality itself. Now there is a loss beyond imagining.
It’s the country that would have him, since he lacked the necessary papers for more promising places.
Here, then, is the last moment of true perception, a man fishing in a red jacket and a cloudy sky reflected on opaque water.
It's the solitude that slays you. Maybe because you'd expected ruin to arrive in a grander and more romantic form.
End of story. ‘Happily ever after’ fell on everyone like a guillotine’s blade.
I see myself..in those pages as she goes back and forth, enjoying simply enjoying the beauties of the moments then chastising herself for having ‘no edge’ being simple and worse, harmless.
One of the reasons ordinary people are incapable of magic is simple dearth of conviction.
She has failed. She wishes she didn't mind. Something, she thinks, is wrong with her.
She'd never been religious. She hadn't allowed grief to send her crawling to the church.
A celestial light appeared to Barrett Meeks in the sky over Central Park, four days after Barrett had been mauled, once again, by love.
He needs a looser association. He needs something that implies a man who wants the ice shard to remain in his chest, who's learned to love the sensation of being pierced.
I was not beautiful, but I believed I had the possibility of beauty in me.