What is it that you contain? The Dead. Time. Light patterns of millennia. The expanding universe opening in your gut. Are your… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
The secret of the world is this: the world is entirely circular and you will go round and round endlessly, never finding… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
The fact is that every atom that we're made of is part of that first explosion of a nuclear star billions of… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
I lay there, stretched out, looking at the one star visible through the tiny window of the room. Only connect. How can… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
This is where the story starts, in this threadbare room. The walls are exploding. The windows have turned into telescopes. Moon and… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
At bed-time I went into my room and put out the light. I didn't get undressed. I lay on my bed and… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
What is it that you contain? The dead. Time. Light patterns of millennia opening in your gut. Every minute, in each of… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
“After nine nights must come ten and every desperate meeting only leaves you desperate for another. There is never enough to eat, never enough… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
You never give away your heart; you lend it from time to time. If it were not so, how could we take it back… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
I have found that I am not a space where people want to live, at least not without decorating first. — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
“Yes. Just pass me my leg will you? It's on top of the wardrobe where he threw it, and I think my right arm… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
Every second the Universe divides into possibilities and most of those possibilities never happen. It is not a uni-verse -- there is more than… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
“It's the cliches that cause the trouble. A precise emotion seeks a precise expression. If what I feel is not precise than how should… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
What would it have meant to be happy? What would it have meant if things had been bright, clear, good between us? — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
“Mrs Ratlow was a widow, and she was head of English, but she still did all the cooking and cleaning for her two sons,… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
“What art does is to coax us away from the mechanical and towards the miraculous. The so-called uselessness of art is a clue to… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
Happy Valentines Day to those who have found love, in whatever shape or form, and to those who are still hunting, don’t give up.… — Jeanette Winterson Copy Share Image
