Ruth Ozeki Quotes
Sometimes when she told stories about the past her eyes would get teary from all the memories she had, but they weren't tears. She wasn't crying. They were just the memories, leaking out.
I have a pretty good memory, but memories are time beings, too, like cherry blossoms or ginkgo leaves; for a while they are beautiful, and then they fade and die.
Life is fleeting. Don't waste a single moment of your precious life. Wake up now! And now! And now!
The past is weird. I mean, does it really exist ? It feels like it exists, but where is it ? And if it did exists, but doesn’t now, then where did it go ?
You never know who it's going to be, or what they'll bring, but whatever it is, it's always exactly what is needed.
When I start writing novels, I go into them with a spirit of inquiry, rather than to substantiate prejudices I had in the beginning. If you don't do that, you can't write good characters.
Everything in the universe is constantly changing, and nothing stays the same, and we must understand how quickly time flows by if we are to wake up and truly live our lives.
The wondrous thing about nature, her gift to us, is her wanton promiscuity. She reproduces herself with abandon, with teeming infinite generosity.
No matter how much bullying they inflict on my body, as long as I have this hope, I can endure any pain.
An unfinished book. left unattended, turns feral, and she would need all her focus, will and ruthless determination to tame it again.
Zazen is better than a home. Zazen is a home that you can't ever lose.
Writing a book is a way of thinking to me, the only way of thinking that I have found successful.
language is magical - it's a form of conjuring. If you do it convincingly, readers will follow you.
She smiled. “Life is full of stories. Or maybe life is only stories. Good night, my dear Nao.
I believe it doesn't matter what it is, as long as you can find something concrete to keep you busy while you are living your meaningless life.
A person is born form the deep conditions of the world. A person pokes up from the world and roll along like a wave. Until it's time to sink down again. Up, down. Person, wave.
That's what it feels like when I write, like I have this beautiful world in my head, but when I try to remember it in order to write it down, I change it, and I can't ever get it back.
Information is a lot like water; it's hard to hold on to, and hard to keep from leaking away.
It was really a means-of-production problem. It costs so much to make films. With a novel, you can write the whole thing on a ream of paper from Staples for $4.
The relationship between reader and writer is reciprocal in a way. We co-create each other. We are constantly emerging out of the relationship we have with others.
I think that if we don't learn to inhabit other people's perspectives, then we're never going to understand why people do what they do.
The important thing was that we were being polite and not saying all the things that were making us unhappy, which was the only way we knew how to love each other.
In my heart, I am American, and I believe I have a free will and can take charge of my own destiny.
By changing our history and our memory, they try to erase all our shame.
We're by-products of the mid-twentieth century", Oliver said. "Who isn't?
Patience was part of his nature, and he accepted his lot as a short-lived mammal, scurrying in and out amid the roots of the giants.
There's so much to write. Where should I start?I texted my old Jiko this question, and she wrote me back this:'You should start where you are
As I bathe myselfI pray with all beingsthat we can purify body and mindand clean ourselves inside and out.
How much can you really trust the promise of a suicidal father?
How much can you really trust the promise of a suicidal farther?
You got a choice, dude. We've all got choices. Lots of them. Every single second of the day we're making choices. You've just been making bad ones, is all.
When you beat a drum, you create NOW, when silence becomes a sound so enormous and alive it feels like you're breathing in the clouds and the sky, and your heart is the rain and the thunder.
Maketa, ” I said, throwing myself down in the sand. “I lost. The ocean won.”She smiled. “Was it a good feeling?”“Mm, ” I said.“That’s good, ” she said. “Have another rice ball?
Ruth was a novelist, and novelists, Oliver asserted, should have cats and books.