Memory is the way we keep telling ourselves our stories - and telling other people a somewhat different version of our stories. — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
I like gaps; all my stories have gaps. It seems this is the way people's lives present themselves. — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
She keeps on hoping from a word from Penelope, but not in any strenuous way. She hopes as people who know better… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
I want the reader to feel something is astonishing. Not the 'what happens,' but the way everything happens. These long short story… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
I think, when you are growing up, you have to pull apart from what your mother wants or needs. You've got to… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
In my own work, I tend to cover a lot of time and to jump back and forward in time, and sometimes… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
This is the way you look at the poorest details of the world resurfaced, after you've been driving for a long time… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
I want my stories to be something about life that causes people to say, not, oh, isn't that the truth, but to… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
The stories are not autobiographical, but they're personal in that way. I seem to know only the things that I've learned. Probably… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
I was a grade B housewife, maybe a B minus. But when I got time to write, I would be unable to… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
If I decided to send this to you, where would I send it? When I think of writing the whole address on… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
I just believed it easily, the way you might believe and in fact remember that you once had another set of teeth,… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
William Maxwell's my favorite North American writer, I think. And an Irish writer who used to write for 'The New Yorker' called Maeve Brennan,… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
“Not very long ago I was driving with my husband on the back roads of Grey County, which is to the north and east… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
“Her silent singing wrapped around the story she was telling herself, which she extended further every night on the deck. (Averill often told herself… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
“Something happened here. In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, were something happened, and then there are… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
My head was a magpie's nest lined with such bright scraps of information. — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
The thing is to be happy, no matter what. Just try that. You can. It gets to be easier and easier. It's nothing to… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
What she wants to do if she can get the time to do it, is not so much to live in the past as… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
“Children Katy's age had no problem with monotony. In fact they embraced it, diving into it and wrapping the familiar words round their tongues… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
“This is what happens. You put it away for a little while, and now and again you look in the closet for something else… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
She sits in her usual ample armchair, with piles of books and unopened magazines around her. She sips cautiously from the mug of weak… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
The images, the language, of pornography, and romance are alike; monotonous and mechanically seductive, quickly leading to despair. — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
I was a grade B housewife, maybe a B minus. But when I got time to write, I would be unable to finish a… — Alice Munro Copy Share Image
