Quotes from Sara Gran

Consider the possibility,'" I said, quoting Silette, "'that what we perceive as the future has already happened, and intuition is only a very good memory.

People think love is, you know, this spiritual thing," the lama said. "This feeling. But that's not my thing. In my book, love is a physical act. Love is not ethereal. Love is sticking by someone when they're in the nuthouse. Love is when you keep calling someone even when they don't call you back. Love is dirty and solid. Love is, you know, earth and shit and blood and hair.

If you hate yourself enough, you'll start to hate anyone who reminds you of you. And if you stick with it, you'll come to hate anyone who doesn't see how just awful you are.

I know," I said. "I'm working on being as stupid as everyone else but I'm not there yet. I'm hoping more drugs will help. They say they kill brain cells.

And I knew that who I was was not entirely dependent on my results. I am who I am because of who I am, not because of the commodities I generate or even the, you know, the sacred objects that I generate. I am not my results. I am my process.

Karma is not a sentence already printed. It is a series of words that authors can arrange as she chooses.

I was watching Iggy Pop videos on Youtube and trying to research miniature horse suicides.

Besides, too much time around normal people made me feel like an alien, unwanted and ugly, fluent in a different language.

We solved every case we found. But we still couldn't seem to solve the biggest mystery we had: why no one cared about our cases

Mysteries never end," Constance Darling, Silette's student, told me once, "And I always thought maybe none of them really get solved, either. We only pretend we understand when we can't bear it anymore. We close the file and close the case, but that doesn't mean we've found the truth, Claire. It only means that we've given up up on this mystery and decided to loo for truth someplace else.

Interviewer: What does it mean to you to be a Silettian detective? Murray: (Pause.) It means I was blind, and now I can see. Interviewer: And the drinking? Murray: Well. Some people need glasses to see, you know.

sometimes the world seem so fucked up, like nothing make any sense at all. Like there's no sense at all. Just—just vicious like that. Just vicious. But then sometimes, sometimes, it's like—like it all fit together perfect, like a puzzle.

I'd met him about five years back on the Case of the Kleptomaniacal Occultist

Some people, I saw, had drowned right away, and some people were drowning in slow motion, drowning a little bit at a time, and would be drowning for years. And some people, like Mick, had always been drowning, they just didn't know what to call it until now.

If you ever forgot that money did not buy what mattered in life, New York pizza would remind you.

Book people aren't exactly silver-lining types.

What I'd loved was what money could make happen. Money could buy you things, but more so, buy you time: time to travel, to write, to read, to walk, to have sex.

Wasn't solving mysteries important? Didn't the truth matter? Of course, Silette had foreseen this. He knew the truth was, and always would be, the most unpopular point of view. "If there is anything that can unify us," he wrote to Constance during the Paris uprising, already old and bitter, "it is our love of deceit and lies, and our abhorrence of the truth.

Everything that was his was now no one's; everything he'd seen and felt and knew was now gone.

We both expected to become less passionate, to fight more, to take each other for granted as time went on. But we never did. We developed routines and schedules, but we continued to astound each other, and to amaze ourselves with our own ability to love. Neither of us had believed we had it in us, this capacity for rapturous, uncomplicated, unconditional love. As it turned out, we had everything we needed.

solutions are always possible, and the limits of the truth far exceed the limits of human understanding.

I'd developed a kind of resentment of people who were attractive and looked like they had sex and maybe even enjoyed life.

Constance helped Mick see that there are never any sides. Only things we understand and things we have chosen to pretend we don't understand. Only those we admit we love and those we pretend we don't recognize.

I was someone who questioned. I was someone who probed. I was someone who looked under rocks and peeked into medicine cabinets.