It would be nice to travel if you knew where you were going and where you would live at the end or do we ever know, do we ever live where we live, we're always in other places, lost, like… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
All writers are exiles wherever they live and their work is a lifelong journey towards the lost land. — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
I must go down to the seas again to find where I buried the hatchet with Yesterday. — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
“So I went up north to a land of palm trees and mangroves like malignant growths in the mud-filled throats of the bays, and… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
“A certain pleasure was added to Grace’s relief at establishing herself as a migratory bird. She found that she understood the characters in her… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
“I have to cry out here that language is all we have for the delicacy and truth of telling, that words are the sole… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
The only certainty about writing and trying to be a writer is that it has to be done, not dreamed of or planned and… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
Listening to her, one experienced a deep uneasiness as of having avoided an urgent responsibility, like someone who, walking at night along the banks… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
People dread silence because it is transparent; like clear water, which reveals every obstacle—the used, the dead, the drowned, silence reveals the cast-off words… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
So we went to bed, assaulted by sleep that fumed at us from medicine glasses, or was wielded from small sweet-coated tablets -- dainty… — Janet Frame Copy Share Image
