“New York may end up being no more than a scrim, a spectral film that is none other than our craving for… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“And yes, there was such a luster in his eyes that I had to look away, and when I looked back at… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“I did not want passion, I did not want pleasure. Perhaps I didn’t even want proof. And I did not want words,… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“What is life without this? which was why, in the end, it was I, and not her, who blurted out, not once,… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“I wish I knew how to calibrate my kiss the way he did but passion allows us to hide more.” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“Not a fire of passion, not a ravaging fire, but something paralyzing, like the fire of cluster bombs that suck up the… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“I didn’t have any time left, because he brought his lips to my mouth, a warm, conciliatory, I’ll-meet-you-halfway-but-no-further kiss till he realized… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
Don't all writers have a hidden nerve, call it a secret chamber, something irreducibly theirs, which stirs their prose and makes it tick and… — Andre Aciman Copy Share Image
“I wanted him to remember the morning on Monet's berm when I'd kissed him not the first but the second time and given him… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
Rituals are how we step into our private field of dreams, a small Elysium all our own. Rituals are made not just for us,… — Andre Aciman Copy Share Image
“I desperately wanted to give him something. By contrast, taking seemed so bland, so facile, so mechanical.” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
Proust is interested in minutiae because life, as he sees it, is seldom ever about things but about our impression of things, not about… — Andre Aciman Copy Share Image
“Well, since you're not going to do anything with me—can you at least read me a story? I'd settle for that. I wanted him… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“This is heaven.” And I wouldn’t hear him say another word for at least an hour. There was nothing I loved more in life… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“He loved the sticky taste. What had I done? I told him and pointed to the bruised evidence sitting on my desk. “Let me… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“When had they separated us, you and me, Oliver? And why did I know it, and why didn't you?” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“As we were swimming back, he asked as though it were an afterthought, “Are you going to hold last night against me?” — André Aciman Copy Share Image
“To be with you. To be with you, Oliver. With or without my bathing suit. To be with you on my bed. In your… — André Aciman Copy Share Image
