Quotes from Gabrielle Zevin

The words you can't find, you borrow. We read to know we're not alone. We read because we are alone. We read and we are not alone. We are not alone. My life is in these books, he wants to tell her. Read these and know my heart. We are not quite novels. The analogy he is looking for is almost there. We are not quite short stories. At this point, his life is seeming closest to that. In the end, we are collected works." ? Gabrielle Zevin, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry

B?dami dvidešimties ? tam tikrus dalykus reaguojame vienaip, o sulauk? keturiasdešimties jau žvelgiame kitaip, ir atvirkš?iai. Tai tinka ir knygoms, ir gyvenime.

Su madre siempre le dice que por culpa de las novelas es incapaz de apreciar a los hombres de carne y hueso, observación que Amelia se toma como un insulto, ya que da a entender que solo lee libros con héroes románticos clásicos.

what, in this life, is more personal than books?

Mano gyvenimas – šitose knygose. Perskaityk jas ir suprasi, kas guli mano širdyje.

But have you read any short stories?" A.J. asked. "Maybe in school. Fairy tales. Or, um, The Red Pony? I think I was supposed to read The Red Pony." "That is a novella," A.J. said.

but what, in this life, is more personal than books?

Janine looks at her watch. "Janine looks at her watch," Daniel says. "She is bored with the old writer." Janine smiles. "Strike the second sentence. Reader will know. Show, don't tell.

Ha leído lo suficiente para saber que no hay antología en que todas las historias sean perfectas. Unas dan en el clavo. Otras fallan. Con suerte, hay una excepcional. De todos modos, al final la gente solo se acuerda de las excepcionales, y no durante mucho tiempo.

But I loved those books or at least that first one. And I felt somewhere down deep inside him the person who wrote it must be there. That you couldn't write such beautiful things and have such an ugly heart. But that is the truth. He was a beautiful writer and a terrible person.

Fun is having a smart, pretty, easy wife with whom you get to spend every working day.

When you think about it, isn't a person just a structure built in reaction to the landscape and the weather?

A second later, he put on his Breton cap.

No one else seems as real as he does.

There were so many kinds of love. And some of them were forever like the kind I had for Natty and for Leo. And other kinds? Well, you'd be a fool if you tried to guess how long they'd last. But even the ones that weren't necessarily everlasting were not without meaning" -Anya

I'm bad. I married a bad man, too. And I know that bad people deserve what they get, but oh, how we hate to be alone.

The most annoying thing about it is that once a person gives a shit about one thing, he finds he has to start giving a shit about everything. No

All of life's in a sports memoir," she says. "You practice hard and you succeed, but eventually your body gives out and it's over.

No somos las cosas que acumulamos, adquirimos, leemos. Durante el tiempo que nos es dado vivir, somos solo amor. Las cosas que hemos amado. Las personas que hemos amado. Eso, es lo que realmente perdura.

He feels drunk or at least carbonated. Insane. At first, he thinks this is happiness, but then he determines it's love. Fucking love, he thinks. What a bother. It's completely gotten in the way of his plan to drink himself to death, to drive his business to ruin. The most annoying thing about it is that once a person gives a shit about one thing, he finds he has to start giving a shit about everything. No

Sam is holding one of your hands, and Sadie is holding the other. And your parents are there, but they are standing behind your friends. And this makes sense, because Sadie and Sam have been your family, as much as your family has been your family. Behind them, a thousand paper cranes festoon the room. "It's okay, Marx," Sadie says. "You can let go.

Someday, you may think of marrying. Pick someone who thinks you're the only person in the room. —

The trick could sometimes be her phone, her (and everyone else's) fortress of solitude, and a practiced absorption in it.

Harvey ha muerto, y por un instante Amelia considera la posibilidad de hacer un mal chiste presentando la otra vida como una especie de empresa a la que Harvey se ha incorporado.