...when it came to dying, I was scared. Not of being dead, that I could not comprehend, to be nothing was impossible to grasp and therefore really nothing to be scared of, but the dying itself I could comprehend, the… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
I come from a working-class family. They're the people I know and the people I love, I guess. I do not write about them… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
When my mother talked about her brother, there was this light in her eyes. I thought, 'This is the basis of a novel.' — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
“But life had shifted its weight from one point to another, from one leg to the other, like a silent giant in the vast… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
“All my life I have longed to be alone in a place like this. Even when everything was going well, as it often did.… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
“I distinctly heard the blackbird from the top of a spruce tree, and clear as glass I heard the lark high up and several… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
I decided if I couldn't be a writer, my life would be miserable. I had this imaginary room of references to all the books… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
“It is important not to be careless about supper when you are alone. It is easily done, boring as it is to cook for… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
“We ran back, he first and I following him, between the beds and downstairs, and we picked up an armful of wood from the… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
I rely heavily on rhythm when I write. You should tap your foot when you read it, all the way through. — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
“What I liked was the train ride. It took an hour and that was enough for me to be able to lean backwards against… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
“...everything felt fine at that moment; the suit was fine, and the twon was fine to walk in, along the cobblestone street, and we… — Per Petterson Copy Share Image
