I feel sorry for the man who marries you... because everyone thinks you're sweet and you're not. — 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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
I have thousands of opinions still - but that is down from millions - and, as always, I know nothing. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share Image
Almost the first thing I did when I became ill was to buy a truly good television set. — Harold Brodkey Copy Share Image
