The primary urge that motivates and engenders writing...is the writer's desire to invent and tell a story, and to know himself. But the more I write, the more I feel the force of the other urge, which collaborates with and… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“He falls quiet again and tries to understand how he can be saying these things, how it can be that his dark words are coming out into the light and yet he is still alive. At once he storms the doorway that has suddenly opened for him in the endless corridor in which he has been bumping around for years;… — David Grossman Copy Share
“and suddenly I am washed over by a wave of happiness for it, for my little story, because it is a place, a home… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“Only now, in rhythmic waves, was she struck by her stupidity, her blindness, her estheronautiness , and, above all, her longing, the insult of the power of her longing, and she knew very well that is was these shortcomings that had made her so eager to interweave in his story the threads of her secret dreams of candor and of… — David Grossman Copy Share
“again, her singing was her only absolute, the only thing that was completely her. a thousand classes hadn't given her this concrete insight: her… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“I write. I give intimate private names to an external and foreign world. In a sense, I make it mine. In a sense, I… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“she poured herself into him wordlessly. Unable to stop, she emptied her very core into him, and yelled and sobbed and laughed and promised… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
And there will be a time, not for long, a month is enough, or a week, when every single person will be able to… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“Tamar noticed that she had never met a person she felt so comfortable being silent with.” — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“What do people see in me on the first impression? ... Is there any imprint left from the love I knew? A rebirth mark?” — David Grossman Copy Share Image
I write. I imagine. The act of imagining in itself enlivens me. I am not frozen and paralyzed before the predator. I invent characters.… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
We write. How fortunate we are: The world does not close in on us. The world does not grow smaller. — David Grossman Copy Share Image
