“Here, in their midst, George feels a sort of vertigo. Oh God, what will become of them all? What chance have they? Ought I to yell out to them, right now, here, that it’s hopeless? But George knows he can’t… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share Image
“...all around George, approaching him, crossing his path from every direction, is the male and female raw material which is fed daily into this factory, along the conveyor-belts of the freeways, to be processed, packaged and placed on the market...… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share Image
“From his angle, the curtain seems to form itself into a shrouded, wavering figure, indescribably terrifying in its very indistinctness. Something waiting, hovering on… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“If you really have talent, you know, you'll go on writing - whatever people say to you.” — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
But seriously, I believe I'm a sort of Ideal Woman, if you know what I mean. I'm the sort of woman who can take… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
If it’s going to be a world with no time for sentiment, it’s not a world that I want to live in. — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“By the time it has gotten dressed, it has become he; has become already more or less George — though still not the whole… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“George feels that, even if all this double talk hasn't brought them any closer to understanding each other, the not-understanding, the readiness to remain… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“Now, for example, people with freckles aren’t thought of as a minority by the nonfreckled. They aren’t a minority in the sense we’re talking… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“Even when they are geniuses in spite of it, their masterpieces are invariably warped.” — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“Here, in their midst, George feels a sort of vertigo. Oh God, what will become of them all? What chance have they? Ought I… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
We must remember that nothing in this world really belongs to us. At best, we are merely borrowers. — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
In the eternal lazy morning of the Pacific, days slip away into months, months into years; the seasons are reduced to the faintest nuance… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“Waking up begins with am and now. That which has awoken then lies for a while staring up at the ceiling and down into… — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
“Like a long train which stops at every dingy little station, the winter dragged slowly past.” — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
Every writer has certain subjects that they write about again and again, and . . . most people's books are just variations on certain themes. — Christopher Isherwood Copy Share
