What else should our lives be but a continual series of beginnings, of painful settings out into the unknown, pushing off from the edges of consciousness into the mystery of what we have not yet become. — David Malouf Copy Share Image
“Brisbane is so sleepy, so slatternly, so sprawlingly unlovely… It is simply the most ordinary place in the world…It was so shabby and makeshift… — David Malouf Copy Share Image
“The hundred possibilities a situation contains may be more significant than the occurrence of any of them, and metaphor truer in the long run… — David Malouf Copy Share Image
“So these things happen, deep in our lives. We do not speak of them. We hide them even from ourselves, but they do not… — David Malouf Copy Share Image
“However the story is told and elaborated, the raw shame of it will be with him now til his last breath.” — David Malouf Copy Share Image
The earth's warmth under me, as I stretch out at night, is astonishing. It is like the warmth of another body that has absorbed the sun all day and now gives out again its store of heat. It is softer, darker than I could ever have believed, and when I take a handful of it and smell its extraordinary odors,… — David Malouf Copy Share
“I scoffed at such old fashioned notions as duty, patriotism, the military virtues. And here I was, aged fifty, standing on guard at the… — David Malouf Copy Share Image
Fiction, with its preference for what is small and might elsewhere seem irrelevant; its facility for smuggling us into another skin and allowing us to live a new life there; its painstaking devotion to what without it might go unnoticed and unseen; its respect for contingency, and the unlikely and odd; its willingness to expose itself to moments of low,… — David Malouf Copy Share
“She had given him up. That was the hard condition of his being and of all commerce between them.” — David Malouf Copy Share Image
