Quotes About Writing

Perhaps my true vocation was that of author of apocrypha, in the several meanings of the term: because writing always means hiding something in such a way that it then is discovered; because the truth that can come from my pen is like a shard that has been chipped from a great boulder by a violent impact, then flung far away; because there is no certitude outside falsification.

Scrivere è sempre nascondere qualcosa in modo che venga poi scoperto.

Il libro dovrebb'essere la controparte scritta del mondo non scritto; la sua materia dovrebbe essere ciò che non c'è né potrà esserci se non quando sarà scritto, ma di cui ciò che c'è sente oscuramente il vuoto nella propria incompletezza.

I say to myself that the result of the unnatural effort to which I subject myself, writing, must be the respiration of this reader, the operation of reading turned into a natural process, the current that brings the sentences to graze the filter of her attention, to stop for a moment before being absorbed by the circuits of her mind and disappearing, transformed into her interior ghosts, into what in her is most personal and incommunicable.

What if it were as they say? If, while I believe I am writing in fun, what I write were really dictated by the extraterrestrials?

Writing consists no longer in narrating but in sayin that one is narrating, and what one says becomes identified with the very act of saying. The psychological person is replaced by a linguistic or even a grammatical person, defined solely by his place in the discourse.

l'arte di scriver storie sta nel saper tirare fuori da quel nulla che si è capito della vita tutto il resto. ma finita la pagina si riprende la vita e ci s'accorge che quel che si sapeva è proprio un nulla.

Will I ever be able to say, "Today it writes," just like "Today it rains," "Today it is windy"?

At times I am gripped by an absurd desire: that the sentence I am about to write be the one the woman is reading at that same moment. The idea mesmerizes me so much that I convince myself it is true: I write the sentence hastily, get up, go to the window, train my spyglass to check the effect of my sentence in her gaze, in the curl of her lips, in the cigarette she lights, in the shifts of her body in the deck chair, in her legs, which she crosses or extends.

At times it seems to me that the distance between my writing and her reading is unbridgeable, that whatever I write bears the stamp of artifice and incongruity; if what I am writing were to appear on the polished surface of the page she is reading, it would rasp like a fingernail on a pane, and she would fling the book away with horror.

And a keen jealousy invades me, not of other people, but of that me made of ink and periods and commas, who wrote the novels I will write no more, the author who continues to enter the privacy of this young woman, while I, I here and now, with the physical energy I feel surging, much more reliable than the creative impulse, I am separated from her by the immense distance of a keyboard and a white page on the roller.

I read, therefore it writes

Most of the books I have written and those I intend to write originate from the thought that it will be impossible for me to write a book of that kind: when I have convinced myself that such a book is completely beyond my capacities of temperament or skill, I sit down and start writing it.

She's there every day,' the writer says. 'Every time I'm about to sit down at my desk I feel the need to look at her. Who knows what she's reading? I know it isn't a book of mine, and instinctively I suffer at the thought, I feel the jealousy of my books, which would like to be read the way she reads. I never tire of watching her: she seems to live in a sphere suspended in another time and another space.

La pagina ha il suo bene solo quando la volti e c'è la vita dietro che spinge e scompiglia tutti i fogli del libro. La penna corre spinta dallo stesso piacere che ti fa correre le strade. Il capitolo che attacchi e non sai ancora quale storia racconterà è come l'angolo che volterai uscendo dal convento e non sai se ti metterà faccia a faccia con un drago, uno stuolo barbaresco, un'isola incantata, un nuovo amore.

I have to say that most of the books I've written and those I have it in mind to write originate in the idea that writing such a book seemed impossible to me. When I'm convinced that a certain type of book is completely beyond the capacities of my temperament and my technical skills, I sit down at my desk and start writing it.

Podré decir alguna vez: "hoy escribe", al igual que "hoy llueve", "hoy hace viento"?

Sono convinto che scrivere prosa non dovrebbe essere diverso dallo scrivere poesia; in entrambi i casi è ricerca d'una espressione necessaria, unica, densa, concisa, memorabile.

Não há melhor lugar para se guardar um segredo que num romance inacabado.

I sit down at the desk, but no story I invent corresponds to what I would like to convey.

Ci si mette a scrivere di lena, ma c'è un'ora in cui la penna non gratta che polveroso inchiostro, e non vi scorre più una goccia di vita, e la vita è tutta fuori, fuori dalla finestra, fuori di te, e ti sembra che mai più potrai rifugiarti nella pagina che scrivi, aprire un altro mondo, fare un salto.[...] scrivendo non mi sono cambiata in bene, ho solo consumato un po' d'ansiosa incosciente giovinezza.

If what I am writing were to appear on the polished surface of the page she is reading, it would rasp like a fingernail on a pane, and she would fling the book away in horror.

This sense of concreteness that you perceived at the very first line bears in it also the sense of loss, the vertigo of dissolution, and you realize that you perceived this, too, alert Reader that you are, from the first page, when though pleased with the precision of this writing, you sensed that, to tell the truth, everything was slip through your fingers…

C'è una linea di confine: da una parte ci sono quelli che fanno i libri, dall'altra quelli che li leggono. Io voglio restare una di quelli che li leggono, perciò sto attenta a tenermi sempre al di qua di quella linea. Se no, il piacere disinteressato di leggere finisce, o comunque si trasforma in un'altra cosa, che non è quello che voglio io.