In writing one draws in the rest, the forgotten parts. Edmund White More Quotes by Edmund White More Quotes From Edmund White The most important things in our intimate lives can't be discussed with strangers, except in books. Edmund White stranger important book I think that there are empty ecological niches in the literary landscape crying to be filled and when a book more or less fills a niche it's seized on, even when it's a far from perfect fit... Edmund White perfect book thinking Marie Calloway has a very specific literary personality that the reader is intrigued by: she's masochistic, loves to experiment, is quickly bored and intermittently self-hating, very hip, rebellious. Figuring her out is a gripping adventure. Edmund White hate self adventure I am, I must confess, suspicious of those who denounce others for having too much sex. At what point does a healthy amount become too much? There are, of course, those who suffer because their desire for sex has become compulsive; in their case the drive (loneliness, guilt) is at fault, not the activity as such. When morality is discussed I invariably discover, halfway into the conversation, that what is meant are not the great ethical questions but the rather dreary business of sexual habit, which to my mind is an aesthetic rather than an ethical issue. Edmund White ethical-questions loneliness sex Paris... is a world meant for the walker alone, for only the pace of strolling can take in all the rich (if muted) detail. Edmund White details paris pace Ive always seen writing as a way of telling the truth. For me, writing is about truth. I have always tried to be faithful to my own experience. Edmund White faithful writing way I think sincerity was my sole aesthetic and realism my experimental technique. Edmund White sincerity technique thinking Tennessee Williams recognized that great theater begins with great talkers, and that great talkers obey two rules: they never sound like anyone else and they never say anything directly. Edmund White say-anything writing two Do we regard language as more public, more ceremonial, than thought? Just as family men condemn the profanity on the stage that they use constantly in conversation, in the same way we may look to written language as an idealization rather than a reflection of ourselves. Edmund White reflection men looks The school was nothing but reminiscence - of an Italian hill town, a French abbey, an English academy, the different sources improbably but convincingly melded into a fantasy about the classic sites of Europe as imagined by exiles from cold peripheral lands, nostalgia about somebody else's past. Edmund White italian past school The AIDS epidemic has rolled back a big rotting log and revealed all the squirming life underneath it, since it involves, all at once, the main themes of our existence: sex, death, power, money, love, hate, disease and panic. No American phenomenon has been so compelling since the Vietnam War. Edmund White hate war sex In the case of my book, I don't think it's really the coming-out gay novel that everyone really needed, even though it was received as such. The boy is too creepy, he betrays his teacher, the only adult man with whom he's enjoyed a sexual experience, etc. Edmund White gay teacher book When we are young... we often experience things in the present with a nostalgia-in-advance, but we seldom guess what we will truly prize years from now. Edmund White nostalgia young years I felt if I went chronologically, I'd get bogged down in childhood and that's part of our culture of complaint in America. This endless wailing about your childhood. Edmund White childhood culture america Perhaps we'd understood each other too well to be attracted to one another. There were no occlusions in communication, those breaks in understanding that awaken desire. Edmund White communication understanding desire Biography can be the most middle-class of all forms, the judgment of little people avenging themselves on the great. Edmund White avenging class people In our imaginations the adults of our childhood remain extreme, essential - we might say radical since they are the roots that fed luxuriant later systems. Those first bohemians, for instance, stay operatic in memory even though were we to meet them today - well, what would we think, we who've elaborated our eccentricities with a patience, a professionalism they never knew? Edmund White roots memories thinking I'd rather come back with a few transcendent memories than an album of snapshots. Edmund White snapshots albums memories How thrilling to discover one had depths, how consoling to find them less polluted than the shallows, how encouraging to identify the enemy not as a fissure in the will but as a dead fetus in the specimen jar of the unconscious. My attention was being paternally led away from the excruciating present to the happy, healthy future that would be enabled by an analysis of the sick past, as though the priest had nothing to do but study old books and make bright forecasts, the present not worthy of notice. Edmund White sick book past Psychoanalysis feeds on intensity, as though life were all flame and no ash. Edmund White intensity ashes flames
