the cold winds of insecurity... hadn't shredded the dreamy chrysalis of his childhood. He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share Image
Being ill like this combines shock - this time I will die - with a pain and agony that are unfamiliar, that wrench me… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
“I figured I had kept her from being too depressed after fucking--it's hard for a girl with any force in her and any brains… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
I was always crazy about New York, dependent on it, scared of it - well, it is dangerous - but beyond that there was… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
In our opposed forms of loneliness and self-recognition and recognition of the other, we touched each other often as we spoke; and on shore… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
It is death that goes down to the center of the earth, the great burial church the earth is, and then to the curved… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
“Reading is an intimate act, perhaps more intimate than any other human act. I say that because of the prolonged (or intense) exposure of… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
“There is a certain shade of red brick--a dark, almost melodious red, sombre and riddled with blue--that is my childhood in St.Louis. Not the… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
I'm sixty-two, and it's ecological sense to die while you're still productive, die and clear a space for others, old and young. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
It is like visiting one's funeral, like visiting loss in its purest and most monumental form, this wild darkness, which is not only unknown… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
In New York one lives in the moment rather more than Socrates advised, so that at a party or alone in your room it… — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
I have thousands of opinions still - but that is down from millions - and, as always, I know nothing. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
Almost the first thing I did when I became ill was to buy a truly good television set. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
I am startled when people are themselves and are not my thoughts of them. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
You really can’t write unless you read. You have to know what the game is all about. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
I often thought men stank of rage; it is why I preferred women, and homosexuals. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share
