Past, present and future are not amenities of language. Time unfolds into the seamsof being. It passes through you, making and shaping. Don DeLillo More Quotes by Don DeLillo More Quotes From Don DeLillo Only a catastrophe gets our attention. We want them, we depend on them. As long as they happen somewhere else. Don DeLillo somewhere-elsewantlong In cities no one notices specific dying. Dying is a quality of the air. It's everywhere and nowhere. Don DeLillo dyingcitiesair It was only when I found myself writing things I didn't realise I knew that I said, 'I'm a writer now.' Don DeLillo foundsaidwriting It's healthier to reject certain cautions than fall in line. Don DeLillo linescertainfall Being called a 'bad citizen' is a compliment to a novelist, at least to my mind. That's exactly what we ought to do. Don DeLillo novelistscitizensmind Fame requires every kind of excess. I mean true fame, a devouring neon, not the sombre renown of waning statesmen or chinless kings. Don DeLillo excesskingsmean The question of dying becomes a wise reminder. It cures us of our innocence of the future. Don DeLillo innocencedyingwise We surrounded ourselves with smoke and loud noise. That's the way we chose to live. I'm prepared to defend it. Don DeLillo loudnoiseway The more things I threw away, the more I found. Don DeLillo found The family is the cradle of the world's misinformation. Don DeLillo misinformationcradleworld You live in a tower that soars to heaven and goes unpunished by God. Don DeLillo soartowersheaven the instant he knew he loved her, she slipped down his body and out of his arms Don DeLillo instantarmsbody Talent is more erotic when it's wasted. Don DeLillo erotictalent I don't want to do the type of writing where I recite biography, parentage and education. I want to rise up from the words on the page and do something, hurt someone. Don DeLillo hurtwantwriting Some nights I need to be held. Tonight I'm a listener. So nice to lie in rumpled sheets and listen. Cover me with words. Don DeLillo nicenightlying To a writer, madness is a final distillation of self, a final editing down. It's the drowning out of false voices. Don DeLillo voiceselfediting Ask yourself this question. Do we have to be humans forever? Consciousness is exhausted. Back now to inorganic matter. This is what we want. We want to be stones in a field. Don DeLillo stoneswantforever I have only a bare working knowledge of the human brain but it's enough to make me proud to be an American. Don DeLillo proudenoughbrain People hurried past, the others of the street, endless anonymous, twenty-one lives per second, race-walking in their faces and pigments, sprays of fleetest being. Don DeLillo racepeoplepast In these night recitations we create a space between things as we felt them at the time and as we speak them now. This is the space reserved for irony, sympathy and fond amusement, the means by which we rescue ourselves from the past. Don DeLillo nightmeanpast
