If I could write the perfect novella I would die happy. Ian Mcewan More Quotes by Ian Mcewan More Quotes From Ian Mcewan Wasn't writing a kind of soaring, an achievable form of flight, of fancy, of the imagination? Ian Mcewan fancyimaginationwriting The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. Ian Mcewan costdreamlittles I do have a very strong sense that most of the terrible things in life happen suddenly and unpredictably, and certainly can sweep you off in different directions, and that is always of interest to a novelist. Ian Mcewan things-in-lifenovelistsstrong Reading groups, readings, breakdowns of book sales all tell the same story: when women stop reading, the novel will be dead. Ian Mcewan groupsreadingbook There's a taste in the air, sweet and vaguely antiseptic, that reminds him of his teenage years in these streets, and of a general state of longing, a hunger for life to begin that from this distance seems like happiness. Ian Mcewan distanceteenagesweet These were everyday sounds magnified by darkness. And darkness was nothing - it was not a substance, it was not a presence, it was no more than an absence of light. Ian Mcewan everydaylightdarkness And though you think the world is at your feet, it can rise up and tread on you. Ian Mcewan feetworldthinking We knew so little about eachother. We lay mostly submerged, like ice floes with our visible social selves projecting only cool and white. Here was a rare sight below the waves, of a man's privacy and turmoil, of his dignity upended by the overpowering necessity of pure fantasy, pure thought, by the irreducible human element - Mind. Ian Mcewan selfsightmen At that moment, the urge to be writing was stronger than any notion she had of what she might write. Ian Mcewan strongerwritingmight Nothing that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Ian Mcewan And feeling clever, I've always thought, is just a sigh away from being cheerful. Ian Mcewan cheerfulcleverfeelings I want to live in a place where strangers rush to help someone in distress. Ian Mcewan strangerwanthelping Daylight seemed then to be the physical manifestation of common sense. Ian Mcewan common-sensedaylightcommon How easily this unthinking family love was forgotten. Ian Mcewan family-loveforgotten He who hesitates is not only lost, but miles from the next exit. Ian Mcewan exitnextlost We go on our hands and knees and crawl our way towards the truth Ian Mcewan kneesgoes-onhands Oblivion seemed the only reasonable option. Ian Mcewan reasonableoblivion Could it ever be explained, how matter becomes conscious? Ian Mcewan consciousmatter When he thought of her, it rather amazed him, that he had let that girl with her violin go. Now, of course, he saw that her self-effacing proposal was quite irrelevant. All she had needed was the certainty of his love, and his reassurance that there was no hurry when a lifetime lay ahead of them. Love and patience- if only he had had them both at once- would surely have seen them both through. Ian Mcewan his-lovegirlself She would simply wait on the bridge, calm and obstinate, until events, real events, not her own fantasies, roe to her challenge, and dispelled her insignificance. Ian Mcewan realbridgeswaiting
