And what you do is you go into where your anger is, if you're writing anger, you go into where your hatred is, if you're writing hatred. Your joy is, if you're writing joy. You find the source of the… — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
Literature was intended to be dangerous. Art was meant to be dangerous. Ideas were nothing if they were not dangerous. — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
He said that in a way being loved is like being told you never have to die. — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
There are no beginnings, not even to stories. There are only places where you make an entrance into someone else's life and either stay… — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
“I have dreamt of a life you will never know; the life of a loving and caring companion. I simply thought you should know.… — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
“You will live when you live. No one else can ever live your life and no one else will ever know what you know...” — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
In the dark that followed - Lucy said; "where I was born, the trees were always in the sun. And I left that place… — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
“With Tom, there had never been a door to close, only the grass to lie on, never a bed; no walls, no ceiling to… — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
I still maintain that an ordinary human being has the right to be horrified by a mangled body seen on an afternoon walk. — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
“Rodwell wandered into No Man's Land and put a bullet through his ears. On Sunday, Robert sat on his bed in the old hotel… — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
They waited. The door did not open. The rain did not stop. The darkness made a tent and covered them completely. — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
“When Mrs Ross asked him what he was thinking of, he shrugged. But he was thinking of the time he'd climbed the steeple of… — Timothy Findley Copy Share Image
