“More than anything, more than anything she had with him, she missed the language they had invented, the likes of which she had never had nor would again. The thoughts and ideas he had birthed in her, his golden touch,… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“He falls quiet again and tries to understand how he can be saying these things, how it can be that his dark words are… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“and suddenly I am washed over by a wave of happiness for it, for my little story, because it is a place, a home… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“Only now, in rhythmic waves, was she struck by her stupidity, her blindness, her estheronautiness , and, above all, her longing, the insult of… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“again, her singing was her only absolute, the only thing that was completely her. a thousand classes hadn't given her this concrete insight: her… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“I write. I give intimate private names to an external and foreign world. In a sense, I make it mine. In a sense, I… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“she poured herself into him wordlessly. Unable to stop, she emptied her very core into him, and yelled and sobbed and laughed and promised… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
And there will be a time, not for long, a month is enough, or a week, when every single person will be able to… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“Tamar noticed that she had never met a person she felt so comfortable being silent with.” — David Grossman Copy Share Image
“What do people see in me on the first impression? ... Is there any imprint left from the love I knew? A rebirth mark?” — David Grossman Copy Share Image
I write. I imagine. The act of imagining in itself enlivens me. I am not frozen and paralyzed before the predator. I invent characters.… — David Grossman Copy Share Image
We write. How fortunate we are: The world does not close in on us. The world does not grow smaller. — David Grossman Copy Share Image
