Dying for love might be pitiable, but it wasn't much different, finally, from any other kind of dying. Richard Yates More Quotes by Richard Yates More Quotes From Richard Yates It haunted him all night, while he slept alone; it was still there in the morning, when he swallowed his coffee and backed down the driveway in the crumpled old Ford. And riding to work, one of the youngest and healthiest passengers on the train, he sat with the look of a man condemned to a very slow, painless death. He felt middle-aged. Richard Yates coffeemorningnight She was calm and quiet now with knowing what she had always known, what neither her parents nor Aunt Claire nor Frank nor anyone else had ever had to teach her: that if you wanted something to do something absolutely honest, something true, it always turned out to be a thing that had to be done alone. Richard Yates auntparentknowing The hell with "love" anyway, and with every other phony, time-wasting, half-assed emotion in the world. Richard Yates emotionhalfworld Your cowardly self-delusions about “love” when you know as well as I do that there’s never been anything between us but contempt and distrust and a terrible sickly dependence on each other’s weakness- that’s why. That’s why I couldn’t stop laughing about the Inability to Love, and that’s why I can’t stand to let you touch me, and that’s why I’ll never again believe in anything you think, let alone anything you say Richard Yates selfbelievethinking Hopeless emptiness. Now you've said it. Plenty of people are onto the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness. Richard Yates emptinessrealpeople Hard work, is the best medicine yet devised for all the ills of man- and of woman. Richard Yates medicinehard-workmen He knew it was possible for shame to be nursed and doctored like an illness, if you wanted to keep it separate from the rest of your life, but that didn't mean there'd be any way to keep from knowing it was there. Richard Yates knowingnursemean Synchronize watches at oh six hundred' says the infantry captain, and each of his huddled lieutenants finds respite from fear in the act of bringing two tiny pointers into jeweled alignment while tons of heavy artillery go fluttering overhead: the prosaic, civilian-looking dial of the watch has restored, however briefly, an illusion of personal control. Good, it counsels, looking tidily up from the hairs and veins of each terribly vulnerable wrist; fine: so far, everything's happening right on time. Richard Yates hairwatchestwo People did change, and a change could be a bloom as well as a withering. Richard Yates witheringwellspeople He took each fact as it came and let it slip painlessly into the back of his mind, thinking, Okay, okay, I'll think about that one later; and that one; and that one; so that the alert, front part of his mind could remain free enough to keep him in command of the situation. Richard Yates mindfactsthinking Anybody's marriage might benefit from an occasional embargo on talk. Richard Yates occasionalbenefitsmight In avoiding specific goals he had avoided specific limitations. For the time being the world, life itself, could be his chosen field. Richard Yates fieldsgoalworld There's never been anything funny about a woman dying for love. Richard Yates dying ...you found you were saying yes when you meant no, and “We’ve got to be together in this thing” when you meant the very opposite ... and then you were face to face, in total darkness, with the knowledge that you didn’t know who you were. And how could anyone else be blamed for that? Richard Yates found-youdarknessopposites Intelligent, thinking people could take things like this in their stride, just as they took the larger absurdities of deadly dull jobs in the city and deadly dull homes in the suburbs. Economic circumstances might force you to live in this environment, but the important thing was to keep from being contaminated. The important thing, always, was to remember who you were. Richard Yates intelligenthomejobs When you wrote it didn't matter if hysteria sometimes came up in your face and voice (unless, of course, you let it find its way into your "literary voice") because writing was done in merciful privacy and silence. Even if you were partly out of your mind it might turn out to be all right: you could try for control even harder than Blanche Dubois was said to have tried, and with luck you could still bring off a sense of order and sanity on the page for the reader. Reading, after all, was a thing done in privacy and silence too. Richard Yates readingwritingorder He found it so easy and so pleasant to cry that he didn’t try to stop for a while, until he realized he was forcing his sobs a little, exaggerating their depth with unnecessary shudders. … The whole point of crying is to quit before you coined it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted Richard Yates cuttinggrieftrying He had won but he didn't feel like a winner. Richard Yates winnerfeels Every man has a right to keep his own sentiments if he pleases. Richard Yates pleasemotivationmen Know what we did, Lucy? You and me? We spent our whole lives yearning. Isn't that the God damndest thing? Richard Yates whole-lifeyearningknows
