“None of us mattered to her, not me, or her critics or defenders. No more than bugs on a lampshade.” — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
William Maxwell's my favorite North American writer, I think. And an Irish writer who used to write for 'The New Yorker' called Maeve Brennan,… — Alice Munro Copy Share
“Not very long ago I was driving with my husband on the back roads of Grey County, which is to the north and east… — Alice Munro Copy Share
“Her silent singing wrapped around the story she was telling herself, which she extended further every night on the deck. (Averill often told herself… — Alice Munro Copy Share
“Something happened here. In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, were something happened, and then there are… — Alice Munro Copy Share
The thing is to be happy, no matter what. Just try that. You can. It gets to be easier and easier. It's nothing to… — Alice Munro Copy Share
What she wants to do if she can get the time to do it, is not so much to live in the past as… — Alice Munro Copy Share
“Children Katy's age had no problem with monotony. In fact they embraced it, diving into it and wrapping the familiar words round their tongues… — Alice Munro Copy Share
“This is what happens. You put it away for a little while, and now and again you look in the closet for something else… — Alice Munro Copy Share
She sits in her usual ample armchair, with piles of books and unopened magazines around her. She sips cautiously from the mug of weak… — Alice Munro Copy Share
The images, the language, of pornography, and romance are alike; monotonous and mechanically seductive, quickly leading to despair. — Alice Munro Copy Share
I was a grade B housewife, maybe a B minus. But when I got time to write, I would be unable to finish a… — Alice Munro Copy Share
“You would think as you get older your mind would fill up with what they call the spiritual side of things, but mine just… — Alice Munro Copy Share
Peoples lives, in Jubilee as elsewhere, were dull, simple, amazing, unfathomable-deep caves paved with kitchen linoleum. . . . What I wanted [to write… — Alice Munro Copy Share
