“It’s on my head, Elisabeth says. That’s where it grows. And my face is also attached to my head.” — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
“Her mother sits down on the churned-up ground near the fence. I’m tired, she says. It’s only two miles, Elisabeth says. That’s not what I mean, she says. I’m tired of the news. I’m tired of the way it makes… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
As for Aliki - if you were to stand in the middle of Rome and say the name Sophia Loren, or Paris and say… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
“Elisabeth had been listening to the programme in the bath. She'd switched the radio off after it and wondered if she'd be able to… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
There is a kind of poetry, bad and good, in evrything, everywhere we look. — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
“I could lick it off with my tongue, if I had a tongue again, if my tongue was wet, and I could taste it… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
“...he had simply typed the words something beautiful into the Google images box. Up came a picture of some leaves against the sun. A… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
What shop did this book come from? she asked. Her father was looking worried at the cooker. He always got rice wrong. I don't… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
What's the point of art, of any art, if it doesn't let us see with a little bit of objectivity where we are? — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
If you can read the world as a construct, you can ask questions of the construct, and you can suggest ways to change the… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
“I’m tired of the news. I’m tired of the way it makes things spectacular that aren’t, and deals so simplistically with what’s truly appalling.… — Ali Smith Copy Share Image
