And the sun on the wall of her room, the block of sun with all the tiny flying things in it. When she was little she thought they were the souls of dead insects, still buzzing in the light. — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
Wherever I went I felt like the last person awake in a room full of sleepers — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
“Where I had expected to appreciate the monuments and love the natural environment, the reality was entirely the reverse. The immense beauty of many… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
I've been a writer and a parent since adolescence, it feels like, and I'm still making both gigs up as I go along. I… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
Surviving is the strongest memory I have; the sense of having walked on water. — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
“Few landscapes have been so deeply known. And fewer still have been so lightly inhabited.” — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
“Life was something you didn't argue with, because when it came down to it, whether you barracked for God or nothing at all, life… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
“Shit, he said as a great, green glut of water poured up at our feet. I wonder what the ordinary people are doin today.” — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
I guess it must be a time-of-life thing, looking back and trying to make some sense of who I am and where I've been.… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
Will you look at us by the river! The whole restless mob of us on spread blankets in the dreamy briny sunshine skylarking and… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
The night is full of stories. They float up like miasmas, as though the dead leave their dreams in the earth where you bury… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
I grew up in a whaling town. We didn't stop whaling in Australia until 1978. And I've always lived in fishing communities. You could… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
There is nowhere else I'd rather be, nothing else I would prefer to be doing. I am at the beach looking west with the… — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
“Rare as rocking-horse turds, these days, feeling halfway to decent, with barely a sick twinge, and he was damned if he’d waste” — Tim Winton Copy Share Image
