Without much accuracy, with strangely little love at all, your family will decide for you exactly who you are, and they'll keep nudging, coaxing, poking you until you've changed into that very simple shape. — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
Without much accuracy, with strangely little love at all, your family will decide for you exactly who you are, and they'll keep nudging, coaxing,… — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
“The tree feels splintery, nasty to my touch; it feels Floridian, more reptile than vegetable, more stucco than stone. I do loathe this state,… — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
Writing is a kind of free fall that you then go back and edit and shape. — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
Know something, sugar? Stories only happen to people who can tell them. — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
You know, right often, the body is the best thing we’ve got going for us. A body itself is a shiny object. Something! — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
“He, the true writer, is the department store dummy at the very center of the whole establishment, the one left alone on display all… — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
“Lord-Express have mercy on our stop-making, stuttering local. Place me expressly beyond these stares, past such terrible embarrassment. I say I do not feel… — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
“The chances of achieving literary performance are, to the decimal point, the odds against becoming fully human. That means one hundred and fifty million… — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
“Imagine how titanic an echo chamber this great city would seem without the noise of eve none of mine. A huge bronze bell deprived… — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
There's a kind of ear music . . . a rhythmic synchronicity which creates a kind of heartbeat on the page. — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
“We'd die here, old together, safe with each other's secrets. We were each other's juvenilia” — Allan Gurganus Copy Share Image
