I'm starting to think my narrators' sentences are getting too big for them, and they are getting to sound a bit samey and, more disturbingly, a bit too much like me. Anne Enright More Quotes by Anne Enright More Quotes From Anne Enright I have no place left to live but in my own heart. Anne Enright left my-own heart The truth. The dead want nothing else. It is the only thing that they require. Anne Enright want I think writers worry that you might not exist in some strange way if you're not writing. Anne Enright worry writing thinking One of the reasons I write is I like being surprised Anne Enright reason writing If your life just falls apart early on, you can put it together again. Its the people who are always on the brink of crisis who dont hit bottom who are in trouble. Anne Enright together-again people fall Naming is nice. It took me days before I was able to speak a name for my first child (what if people did not like it?), and I suspect we gave her a secret, second name as well, to keep her safe. Anne Enright nice names children Remember, if you sit at your desk for 15 or 20 years, every day, not counting weekends, it changes you. It just does. It may not improve your temper, but it fixes something else. It makes you more free. Anne Enright weekend may years I can't think of anything you might say about Irish people that is absolutely true. Anne Enright might people thinking I became a full-time writer in 1993 and have been very happy, insofar as anybody is, since. Anne Enright very-happy has-beens For 10 or 11 years, I had my kids, I wrote four or five books, and I was working all the damn time. Anne Enright kids book years I am a trembling mess from hip to knee. There is a terrible heat, a looseness in my innards that makes me want to dig my fists between my thighs. It is a confusing feeling - somewhere between diarrhoea and sex - this grief that is almost genital. Anne Enright grief feelings sex The only way to write a book, I’m fond of telling people, is to actually write a book. That’s how you write a book. Anne Enright writing book people A drinker does not exist. Whatever they say, it is just the drink talking. Anne Enright drink doe talking Here we go again. Always a few drinks, but sometimes even sober, we play the unhappiness game; endlessly round and round. Ding dong. Tighter and tighter. On and on. Push me pull you. Come here and i'll tell you how much i hate you. Hang on a minute while i leave you. All the while we know we are missing the point, whatever the point used to be. Anne Enright hate games play I think you know everything at eight. But is is hidden from you, sealed up, in a way you have to cut yourself open to find. Anne Enright eight cutting thinking I find being Irish quite a wearing thing. It takes so much work because it is a social construction. People think you are going to be this, this, and this. Anne Enright construction people thinking Cats, I always think, only jump into your lap to check if you are cold enough, yet, to eat. Anne Enright lap cat thinking We have lost the art of public tenderness, these small gestures of wiping and washing; we have forgotten how abjectly the body welcomes a formal touch. Anne Enright small-gestures body art I do not believe in evil- I believe that we are human and fallible, that we things and spoil them in an ordinary way. Anne Enright evil ordinary believe There are about as many ways to be dead as there are to be alive. People linger in different ways, both publicly and privately. Anne Enright alive different people
