Quotes from Ali Smith

A?a c? s-a dus direct afar? ?i a spart o fereastr? drept cadou de ziua ei. Halal cadou, spune Midge. De ziua mea vreau un Mini Cooper.

The surface of things is a lie, and everybody who sees the hoarding for what they are knows it.

Oh, Dumnezeule, sora mea care are leg?tur? cu mine este o din aia - o ciudat?, o lips?, una c?reia nu po?i s? i-o tragi, o sub-dezvoltat? ?i care nici m?car nu merit? s? fie f?cut? ilegal?.)

The surface of things is a lie, and everybody who sees the hoardings for what they are knows it.

It's why he'd got off the train here: the train had pulled towards this station and there'd been something clean about the mountains, clean like swept clean. They had something about them that accepted the fact of themselves, demanded nothing. They just were.

Acum doreÈ™ti s? vorbeÈ™ti cu una din fetele sau b?ieÈ›ii sau ce-or fi care au scris mesajele, sau cu unul din cei È™apte pitici? Pe care l-ai dori? Îl avem pe Mutulic?, Hapciu', Moroc?nosu', RuÈ™inosu', Somnorosu', N?sosu' È™i înc? unul al c?rui nume va trebui s?-l caut pentru dumneata.

It's all right to forget, you know, he said. It's good to. In fact, we have to forget things sometimes. Forgetting it is important. We do it on purpose. It means we get a bit of a rest. Are you listening? We have to forget. Or we'd never sleep ever again.

He shakes his head. He was a man on a railway platform. There was no story. Except, there is. There always fucking is.

Midge, inimioara mea dulce È™i cumplit de cinic?, spune bunicul. Va trebui s? înveÈ›i acel tip de speran?? care transform? lucrurile în istorie. Altfel, n-o s? existe vreo È™ans? pentru propriile tale adev?ruri m?reÈ›e, È™i nici un adev?r bun pentru proprii t?i nepoÈ›i.

Lise was lying in bed. She was falling. There

Creativity is cultural joy because it is derivative of it, but because it aims to heal culture. Art is saturated with the unconscious acts like a compensatory dream in the individual: it tries to rebalance and address deep-rooted problems.

There was once, and there was only once; once was all there was. She

But now it was as if such simplicity had, without him even noticing it happening, grown very small and far away and him on the deck of an old ocean liner heading towards rough sea and waving like a madman back at a shore which, like a time when there'd been a steady kind of joy in something like the simplicity of a lemon, had disappeared, vanished completely, was no longer visible to the eye. Is no longer. Loser.

I penetrated to the heart of the forest, he says, sacrificed myself, and brought back—you. He

There's ways to survive these times, Doubleclick, and I think one way is the shape the telling takes.

Creativity is cultural not because it is derivative of it, but because it aims to heal culture. Art saturated with the unconscious acts like a compensatory dream in the individual: it tries to rebalance and address deep-rooted problems.

birth me all over again burn me and the tree next summer's sun midwinter guarantee

they were always, she was always, gloriously, just a little late, it made everything worth hurrying for)

There's ways to survive these times, Doubledick, and I think one way is the shape the telling takes

Books. Knowledge. Years of reading. All of which means? I know stuff.

The earth is made of it. Green. Moss, algae, lichen, mould. It's the colour everything was before there were flowers, the colour of the first trees, the trees that didn't have leaves, had needles instead, the trees that grew in the first hiatus between cold and warm -

Probably what was history then is nothing but footnote now, and on that note, he notes she's barefoot, alone in the summer night light of the hall of the great stately house where, by coincidence (history, footnote), he happens to know that the song Rule Britannia was first ever sung.

You hold me very tight in under my clothes, and if there's a library anywhere near then someone just removed its roof, the shelves just flooded with the sun and all the old books just remembered what it means to be bound in skin and to have a spine.

Month of sacrifice and month of playfulness. Month of restoration, of fertility-festivity. Month when the earth and the buds are already open, the creatures asleep for the winter have woken and are already breeding, the birds have already built their nests, birds that this time last year didn't exist, just bringing to life the birds that'll replace them this time next year. Spring-cuckoo month, grass-month.