Quotes About Depth

Ljubav nije jezero u kome se uvek može ogledati... ona ima plimu i oseku i olupine i potonule gradove i bure i kov?ege sa zlatom i bisere… ali biseri su duboko...

Kiekvien? akimirk? jau?iame, kad negalime laim?s išlaikyti, ir n? nebandome <...> Bet jeigu mes nem?giname su?iupti jos ir sutur?ti savo šiurkš?iomis rankomis, tai gal ji, niekieno nebaidoma, išlieka m?s? aki? gilumoje? Gal ji išlieka ten, kol gyvos tos akys?

Don't ask anything more. There are more secrets in your hair than in a thousand questions.

Iubirea este o be?ie.Nu a sim?urilor, ci a sufletelor.

O leg?tur? spiritual-sufleteasc? de maxim? intensitate, concretizat? fizic-iat? ce înseamn? iubirea...

SimÈ›irea înseamn? totul.SimÈ›irea lipsit? de cuvinte È™i imagine,liniÈ™tea profund?.

So we might say that pregnant silence is at the same time the most facile, as well as one of the highest, esthetic achievements.

I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eighths of it underwater for every part that shows.

If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about, he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water

You're awfully dark, brother, he said. You don't know how dark.

Don't let yourself slip and get any perfect characters... keep them people, people, people, and don't let them get to be symbols.

In truly good writing no matter how many times you read it you do not know how it is done. That is beacause there is a mystery in all great writing and that mystery does not dis-sect out. It continues and it is always valid. Each time you re-read you see or learn something new.

There is seven-eights of it under water for every part that shows. Anything you know you can eliminate and it only strengthens your iceberg. It is the part that doesn't show. If a writer omits something because he does not know it then there is a hole in the story. (Interview with Paris Review , 1958)

Did I know him? Did I love him? You ask me that? I knew him like you know nobody in the world, and I loved him like you love God.

He smiled as only the truly shy can smile. It was not the easy grin of the confident, nor the quick slashing smile of the extremely durable and the wicked. It had no relation with the poised, intently used smile of the courtesan or the politician. It was the strange, rare smile which rises from the deep, dark pit, deeper than a well, deep as a mine, that is within them.

The heart of another is a dark forest

Os nomes penetram-nos até aos ossos.

We never talked for very long at a time. It was simply the pleasure of discovering what we each felt.

She was looking into my eyes with that way she had of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes. They would look on and on after everyone else's eyes in the world would have stopped looking.

So if you love this girl as much as you say you do, you had better love her very hard and make up in intensity what the relation will lack in duration and in continuity

When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people not characters. A character is a caricature

This is the challenge of sexual intimacy, of bringing home the erotic. It is the most fearsome of all intimacies because it is all-encompassing. It reaches the deepest places inside us, and involves disclosing aspects of ourselves that are invariably bound up with shame and guilt. It is scary, a whole new kind of nakedness, far more revealing than the sight of our nude bodies.

Revenge often looks petty, but I have come to respect the depth of hurt it conceals.

If there's one thing every good novelist understands, it's that our inner world is unreliable and yet there's no getting beyond it. Every sense is subject to deception, including the moral sense. What seems at first like the hard surface of spiritual reality is really fathomless when you dive down into it. There is no bottom. We neve know anything for sure. (p. xvi)