What was it with men, that they found elementary logic so difficult? Ian Mcewan More Quotes by Ian Mcewan More Quotes From Ian Mcewan If I could write the perfect novella I would die happy. Ian Mcewan diesperfectwriting She bent her finger and then straightened it. The mystery was in the instant before it moved, the dividing moment between not moving and moving, when her intention took effect. It was like a wave breaking. If she could only find herself at the crest, she thought, she might find the secret of herself, that part of her that was really in charge. She brought her forefinger closer to her face and stared at it, urging it to move. It remained still because she was pretending... . And when she did crook it finally, the action seemed to start in the finger itself, not in some part of her mind. Ian Mcewan waves-breakingsecretmoving The cost of oblivius daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realigment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. Her reverie, once rich in plausible details, had become a passing silliness before the hard mass of the actual. It was difficult to come back. Ian Mcewan detailsreturnlittles Nothing was to be lost by beginning at the beginning. Ian Mcewan lost What I've discovered and really confirmed to myself is that opera really likes loud colours, and you need something bold, something savage, unpredictable, passionate. You can't really run a two-hour opera round some muted murmuring. Ian Mcewan savagesrunningtwo The end of secrecy would be the end of the novel - especially the English novel. The English novel requires social secrecy, personal secrecy. Ian Mcewan secrecysocialwould-be In that shrinking moment he discovered that he had never hated anyone until now. It was a feeling as pure as love, but dispassionate and icily rational. Ian Mcewan shrinkingmomentsfeelings Had it taken her this long to discover that she lacked some simple mental trick that everyone else had, a mechanism so ordinary that no one ever mentioned it, an immediate sensual connection to people and events, and to her own needs and desires? All these years she had lived in isolation within herself and, strangely, from herself, never wanting or daring to look back. Ian Mcewan takensimpleyears Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destory? Ian Mcewan inevitable-deathinevitabledoe Briony began to understand the chasm that lay between an idea and its execution. Ian Mcewan executionchasmsideas Looking after children is one of the ways of looking after yourself. Ian Mcewan childrenway It was thought, perception, sensations that interested her, the conscious mind as a river through time, and how to represent its onward roll, as well as all the tributaries that would swell it, and the obstacles that would divert it. If only she could reproduce the clear light of a summer's morning. Ian Mcewan lightsummermorning Cecilia wondered, as she sometimes did when she met a man for the first time, if this was the one she was going to marry, and whether it was this particular moment she would remember for the rest of her life - with gratitude, or profound and particular regret. Ian Mcewan gratituderegretmen We know so little about each other. We lie mostly submerged, like ice floes, with our visible social selves projecting only cool and white. Ian Mcewan iceselflying Especially difficult when the first and best unconscious move of a dedicated liar is to persuade himself he's sincere. And once he's sincere, all deception vanishes. Ian Mcewan deceptionliarsmoving Something has happened, hasn't it? ... It's like being up close to something so large you don't even see it. Even now, I'm not sure I can. But I know it's there. Ian Mcewan happenednot-sureknows ...the world she ran through loved her and would give her what she wanted and would let it happen. Ian Mcewan wantedgivingworld Above all, she wanted to look as though she had not given the matter a moment's thought, and that would take time. Ian Mcewan momentsmatterlooks Novels without female characters were a lifeless desert. Ian Mcewan desertfemalecharacter I turned the pages so fast. And I suppose I was, in my mindless way, looking for a something, version of myself, a heroine I could slip inside as one might a pair of favourite shoes. Ian Mcewan shoespagesmight
