Quotes About Clarity

It is easy to see the beginning of things, and harder to see the ends. I can remember now, with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict, when New York began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended, can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact plane on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was

I mean maybe I was holding all the aces, but what was the game?

It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.

We write to discover what we think.

I promised myself that I would maintain momentum. Maintain momentum was the imperative that echoed all the way downtown. In fact I had no idea what would happen if I lost it. In fact I had no idea what it was.

Carter and Helene still ask questions. I used to ask questions, and I got the answer: nothing. The answer is "nothing.

It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends. I can remember now, with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict, when New York began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended, can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact place on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was.

I write to know what I think.

You see the point. I want to tell you the truth, and already I have told you about the wide rivers.

I don't know what I think until I write about it.

Just so. I am what I am. To look for "reasons" is beside the point.

This is a case in which I need more than words to find the meaning. This is a case in which I need whatever it is I think or believe to be penetrable, if only for myself.

This is a case in which I need more than words to find the meaning.

When I try to reconstruct those weeks at UCLA I recognize the mudginess in my own memory. There are parts of days that seem very clear and parts of days that do not.

I used to tell John my dreams, not to understand them but to get rid of them, clear my mind for the day.

I am what I am. To look for «reasons» is beside the point.

I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means…. What is going on in these pictures in my mind?

I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear…. What is going on in these pictures in my mind?

In the aftermath of the wind the air was dry, burning, so clear that she could see the ploughed furrows of firebreaks on distant mountains. Not even the highest palms moved. The stillness and clarity of the air seemed to rob everything of its perspective, seemed to alter all perception of depth, and Maria drove as carefully as if she were reconnoitering an atmosphere without gravity.

I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear>

I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means.

What gives those December days a year ago their sharper focus is their ending

Maybe I was holding all the aces, but what was the game?

At least some of the time, the world appears to me as a painting by Hieronymous Bosch; were I to follow my conscience then, it would lead me out onto the desert with Marion Faye, out to where he stood in The Deer Park looking east to Los Alamos and praying, as if for rain, that it would happen: '…let it come and clear the rot and the stench and the stink, let it come for all of everywhere, just so it comes and the world stands clear in the white dead dawn.