He wondered if she wondered if he were watching her. Raymond Carver More Quotes by Raymond Carver More Quotes From Raymond Carver I loved you so much once. I did. More than anything in the whole wide world. Imagine that. What a laugh that is now. Can you believe it? We were so intimate once upon a time I can't believe it now. The memory of being that intimate with somebody. We were so intimate I could puke. I can't imagine ever being that intimate with somebody else. I haven't been. Raymond Carver laughing memories believe Every great or even every very good writer makes the world over according to his own specifications. Raymond Carver very-good writing world Woke up this morning with a terrific urge to lie in bed all day and read. Raymond Carver morning book lying Ralph also took some classes in philosophy and literature and felt himself on the brink of some kind of huge discovery about himself. But it never came. Raymond Carver class discovery philosophy Booze takes a lot of time and effort if you're going to do a good job with it. Raymond Carver good-job effort jobs It's akin to style, what I'm talking about, but it isn't style alone. It is the writer's particular and unmistakable signature on everything he writes. It is his world and no other. This is one of the things that distinguishes one writer from another. Not talent. There's plenty of that around. But a writer who has some special way of looking at things and who gives artistic expression to that way of looking: that writer may be around for a time. Raymond Carver expression writing talking This is awful. I don't know what's going to happen to me or to anyone else in the world. Raymond Carver awful happens world What good are insights? They only make things worse. Raymond Carver insight I am a cigarette with a body attached to it Raymond Carver cigarette body Honey, no offense, but sometimes I think I could shoot you and watch you kick. Raymond Carver honey watches thinking You're...writing for other writers to an extent-the dead writers whose work you admire, as well as the living writers you like to read. Raymond Carver admire wells writing Nights without beginning that had no end. Talking about a past as if it'd really happened. Telling themselves that this time next year, this time next year, things were going to be different. Raymond Carver talking night past Anyone can express himself or herself, but what writers and poets want to do in their work, more than simply express themselves, is communicate. Raymond Carver poet want writing Isak Dinesen said that she wrote a little every day, without hope and without despair. I like that. Raymond Carver despair said littles Something’s died in me,” she goes. “It took a long time for it to do it, but it’s dead. You’ve killed something, just like you’d took an axe to it. Everything is dirt now. Raymond Carver dirt like-you long But he stays by the window, remembering that life. They had laughed. They had leaned on each other and laughed until the tears had come, while everything else—the cold and where he'd go in it—was outside, for a while anyway. Raymond Carver cold tears remember I dressed and went for a walk - determined not to return until I took in what Nature had to offer. Raymond Carver hiking return journey All this, all of this love we're talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory. Am I wrong? Am I way off base? Because I want you to set me straight if you think I'm wrong. I want to know. I mean, I don't know anything, and I'm the first one to admit it. Raymond Carver memories mean thinking There is no answer. It's okay. But even if it wasn't okay, what am I supposed to do? Raymond Carver okay answers life A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house. Except for the chrome hooks, he was an ordinary-looking man of fifty or so. Raymond Carver doors men hands
