Quotes from Lydia Millet

I advise, if you're stymied by a passage or paragraph or plot point - whether it's for an assignment from the outside world or one that comes only from within - get up from wherever you're sitting, walk outdoors, and do nothing but look at the sky for five minutes. Just stare at that thing. Then execute a small bow and go back in.

When I was 16, I went to Berlin - West Berlin, since at that time a wall still divided the city - to live for three months with a family on an exchange program.

You need not fear my extinction. Fear my proliferation! I've already reproduced!

Names and other proper nouns shouldn't distract from the language.

Fiction should be an ethically safe space, free of fancy ideas. It should be dedicated modestly to relationships or escapism or the needs of luscious voyeurs.

When 'Watchmen' was published in 1986, the vast majority of comics readers deemed it a watershed in comics history. The 12-part serial comic book was widely acclaimed as a genius subversion of the superhero genre, and it did much to popularize comics to adults.

I've seen a few wild grizzly bears, mostly in Alaska and British Columbia, and always from a distance. But each grizzly I've caught sight of was as fearsome and sublime as the last. You never get used to their raw power and massive bodies, or the mysterious intelligence in their dark, close-set eyes.

Most climate debates have focused on cutting the use of fossil fuels. But besides a few high-profile scuffles over fuel extraction in vulnerable wild places like the offshore Arctic, political leaders have ignored fossil fuel production as a necessary piece of climate strategy.

Do we seek delicate phraseology in politics or other forms of public life? We do not.

It's a friendly act to write a lighthearted book.

When it comes to American Indians, mainstream America suffers from willful blindness.

In 1805, the explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, making their way across the West, were warned by American Indian tribes of grizzly bears' awesome strength.

Once we lived in a summer country.

He hated the American way of thought that said all things could be repaired, all things surmounted by a trick of attitude. History is trivial in this country, he said. Forgetting is the way to bliss. Ignorance is a badge of honor.

Love of knowledge can draw on its credit indefinitely ... love of knowledge is iron-clad.

You don't see a fish in a chair often.

We have seen these bodies, she would think, and even long after we are gone some particle in the universe will hold a memory of the words we once used to describe their beauty.

But being alone was also a closed loop. A loop with a slipknot, say. The loop could be small or large, but it always returned to itself. You had to untie the knot, finally. Open the loop and then everything sank in. And everyone. Then you could see what was true--that separateness had always been the illusion. A simple trick of flesh.

The gun is mightier than the pen, was our true opinion, and the RPG is mightier still.

Let's draw straws," said David. We used dune grass. We didn't pull it out—Jack warned us not to hurt the plants—but snipped it neatly with a penknife. The shortest blades went to Terry and Rafe

Destined to die without issue," added Terry, who fancied himself a wordsmith. His real name was Something the Third. As if that wasn't bad enough, "the Third" translated to "Tertius" in Latin. Then "Tertius" shortened to "Terry." So obviously that was what they called him. He kept a private journal in which his feelings were recorded, possibly. The possibility was widely mocked.

Aw, group hug! No one's a mindless robot anymore. Score!

When push came to shove, the yacht kids were just too WASP for him. He was a jewel of Kazakh youth, he liked to say—studied history so he could boast about Mongolian hordes. He'd mailed a cheek swab to some genetic-testing service, and the results suggested he was Genghis Khan's nephew. Some generations removed. But basically, yeah, he said.

I saw them too," said Low. "She had her hand right on his pants. The package. Right on there. Guy had a raging boner." "Gross," said Juicy. He spat. "Goddammit, Juice. You almost hit my toe," said Low. "Demerit." "Your fault for wearing sandals," said Juicy. "Mega lame. A demerit to you.