Twitter," said Manny, waving his hand. "You know what that is? Te... by Meg Wolitzer

Twitter," said Manny, waving his hand. "You know what that is? Termites with microphones.

Meg Wolitzer

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Good writing is good writing, and I'm so happy when I read it. by Meg Wolitzer

Good writing is good writing, and I'm so happy when I read it.

good-writing writing

We are all here, on this earth for only one go around. And everyone thinks their purpose is to just find their passion. But perhaps our purpose is to find what other people need.

passion people thinking

Being a teacher at a restaurant in the town where you lived was a... by Meg Wolitzer

Being a teacher at a restaurant in the town where you lived was a little like being a TV star.

stars littles teacher

While it's true that some writers, when taking on love and war, find the task too big, or only succeed in one but not the other, Mengestu tracks both themes with authority and feeling.

track feelings war

I always thought it was the saddest and most devastating ending. How you could have these enormous dreams that never get met. How without knowing it you could just make yourself smaller over time. I don't want that to happen to me.

knowing dream life

You had only one chance for a signature in life, but most people... by Meg Wolitzer

You had only one chance for a signature in life, but most people left no impression.

signatures chance people

And I also know that pain can seem like an endless ribbon. You pull it and you pull it. You keep gathering it toward you, and as it collects, you really can't believe that there's something else at the end of it. Something that isn't just more pain. But there's always something else at the end; something at least a little different. You never know what that thing will be, but it's there.

ribbons pain believe

The child who was happy with herself meant the parents had won th... by Meg Wolitzer

The child who was happy with herself meant the parents had won the jackpot.

jackpot parent children

But it's never just been the journals that have made the difference, I don't think. It's also the way the students are with one another . . . the way they talk about books and authors and themselves. Not just their problems, but their passions too. The way they form a little society and discuss whatever matters to them. Books light the fire-whether it's a book that's already written, or an empty journal that needs to be filled in.

passion book thinking

For me, a novel relying too heavily on a single idea might be a dry, deadly thing unless it possesses an animating force.

dry might ideas

Being an adult child was an awkward, inevitable position. You went about your business in the world: tooling around, giving orders, being taken seriously, but there were still these two people lurking somewhere who in a split second could reduce you to nothing. In their presence, you were a big-headed baby again, crawling instead of walking.

taken baby children

The minute you had kids you closed ranks. You didn't plan this in advance, but it happened. Families were like individual, discrete, moated island nations. The little group of citizens on the slab of rock gathered together instinctively, almost defensively, and everyone who was outside the walls—even if you'd once been best friends—was now just that, outsiders.

wall islands kids

People like to warn you that by the time you reach the middle of your life, passion will begin to feel like a meal eaten long ago, which you remember with great tenderness.

long-ago passion people

You stayed around your children as long as you could, inhaling the ambient gold shavings of their childhood, and at the last minute you tried to see them off into life and hoped that the little piece of time you’d given them was enough to prevent them from one day feeling lonely and afraid and hopeless. You wouldn’t know the outcome for a long time.

lonely long children

I have never been much of a researcher by Meg Wolitzer

I have never been much of a researcher

Just the act of sleeping beside someone you liked to be with. May... by Meg Wolitzer

Just the act of sleeping beside someone you liked to be with. Maybe that was love.

someone-you-like sleep

This post-college world felt different from everything that had c... by Meg Wolitzer

This post-college world felt different from everything that had come before it.

different college world

Part of the beauty of love was that you didn’t need to explain it to anyone else. You could refuse to explain. With love, apparently you didn’t necessarily feel the need to explain anything at all.

refuse feels needs

Everybody has a theme. You talk to somebody awhile, and you realize they have one particular thing that rules them. The best you can do is a variation on the theme, but that's about it.

variation realizing motivation

The generation that had information, but no context. Butter, but... by Meg Wolitzer

The generation that had information, but no context. Butter, but no bread. Craving, but no longing.

generations information bread