“Get up, go and be like him as much as one alive can be like the dead—without dying. Conceive him, yet be your death, too, almost. Like him be now, but only till the shadow of his end falls on… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“And then my grandfather explained -in his language- that utopias are not for mortals. And that people are like flies, that the stories they are told must be like flypaper. Utopias are gold-covered paper, he said, and flypaper is covered… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“He falls quiet again and tries to understand how he can be saying these things, how it can be that his dark words are… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“and suddenly I am washed over by a wave of happiness for it, for my little story, because it is a place, a home… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“Only now, in rhythmic waves, was she struck by her stupidity, her blindness, her estheronautiness , and, above all, her longing, the insult of… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“again, her singing was her only absolute, the only thing that was completely her. a thousand classes hadn't given her this concrete insight: her… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“I write. I give intimate private names to an external and foreign world. In a sense, I make it mine. In a sense, I… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“she poured herself into him wordlessly. Unable to stop, she emptied her very core into him, and yelled and sobbed and laughed and promised… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
And there will be a time, not for long, a month is enough, or a week, when every single person will be able to… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“Tamar noticed that she had never met a person she felt so comfortable being silent with.” — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“What do people see in me on the first impression? ... Is there any imprint left from the love I knew? A rebirth mark?” — David Grossman Copy Share Image
I write. I imagine. The act of imagining in itself enlivens me. I am not frozen and paralyzed before the predator. I invent characters.… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
We write. How fortunate we are: The world does not close in on us. The world does not grow smaller. — David Grossman Copy Share Image
