“Well, since you're not going to do anything with me—can you at least read me a story? I'd settle for that. I… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“But this thing that almost never was still beckons, I wanted to tell him. They can never undo it, never unwrite it,… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“It was just that I was hoping we'd go together.' 'You mean like the other day?' he added, as though to help… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“Finally his voice came through. 'Elio,' he said. I could hear my parents and the voices of children in the background. No… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“If I put my foot on the floor and pretend that his is just behind the leg of the table, will that… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“I’m not wise at all. I told you, I know nothing. I know books, and I know how to string words together—it… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“We were too close, I thought, I'd never been so close to him except in a dream or when he cupped his… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“I look back on those days and regret none of it, not the risks, not the shame, not the total lack of… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“This felt special. Like showing someone your private chapel, your secret haunt, the place where, as with the berm, one comes to… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“The picture would remind Oliver of the morning when I first spoke out. Or of the day when we rode by the… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“The thought washed over me like water on a flower shop window, like a soothing, cool lotion after you've showered and spent… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“Looking at him now from the balustrade, I felt something so tender for him that it reminded me how eagerly I had… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“I was happy that the room would revert to me. In my/his room, it would be easier to remember our nights. No,… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“What had been in my head for so long would now be out in the real world, no longer afloat in my… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“And on that evening when we grow older still we'll speak about these two young men as though they were two strangers… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“He is right, there is no denying it,' said my father under his breath, as though mimicking the part of a cowered… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“I could never think of him in New England. When I lived in New England for a while and was separated from… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“Two words from him, and I had seen my pouting apathy change into I’ll play anything for you till you ask me… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“You never did forgive me, did you?' 'Forgive? There was nothing to forgive. If anything, I'm grateful for everything. I remember good… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“All these years, whenever I thought of him, I'd think either of B. or of our last days in Rome, the whole… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“Intelligent? He was more than intelligent. What you two had had everything and nothing to do with intelligence. He was good, and… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“But all of these hours were strained by fear, as if fear were a brooding specter, or a strange, lost bird trapped… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“ I don't care to remember —like I know myself —hinted at a realm of human experience only others had access to,… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“In a few days he'd be gone. If only he'd be back exactly a year from now.” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“We may never speak about this again. But I hope you’ll never hold it against me that we did. I will have… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
Don't all writers have a hidden nerve, call it a secret chamber, something irreducibly theirs, which stirs their prose and makes it tick and… — Andre Aciman Copy Share Image
“I wanted him to remember the morning on Monet's berm when I'd kissed him not the first but the second time and given him… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
Rituals are how we step into our private field of dreams, a small Elysium all our own. Rituals are made not just for us,… — Andre Aciman Copy Share Image
“I desperately wanted to give him something. By contrast, taking seemed so bland, so facile, so mechanical.” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
Proust is interested in minutiae because life, as he sees it, is seldom ever about things but about our impression of things, not about… — Andre Aciman Copy Share Image
“Well, since you're not going to do anything with me—can you at least read me a story? I'd settle for that. I wanted him… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“This is heaven.” And I wouldn’t hear him say another word for at least an hour. There was nothing I loved more in life… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“He loved the sticky taste. What had I done? I told him and pointed to the bruised evidence sitting on my desk. “Let me… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“When had they separated us, you and me, Oliver? And why did I know it, and why didn't you?” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“As we were swimming back, he asked as though it were an afterthought, “Are you going to hold last night against me?” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“To be with you. To be with you, Oliver. With or without my bathing suit. To be with you on my bed. In your… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
