Stories pass the experienced world back and forth between them as a metaphor, until it is worn out. Only then do we realize that meaning is an act. We must repossess it, instant to instant in our lives. — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
What is literature, and why do I try to write about it? I don’t know. Likewise, I don’t know why I go on living, most of the time. But this not knowing is precisely what I want to preserve. As… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
Identity is not negotiable. An identity you have achieved by agreement is always a prison. — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
I think it's undignified to read for the purposes of escape. After you grow up, you should start reading for other purposes — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
“As they moved from exhibit to exhibit like reluctant tourists in some artist's studio, Buffin sat on a stool with his limbs tense. He… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
“He ran toward the light. When he passed the corpse of his dead friend, he began to weep again. He picked up his sword.… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
“Some internal process held him rapt. He had begun, perhaps, to map the paths inside himself which led to the Past. This gave him… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
Budapest is a prime site for dreams: the East’s exuberant vision of the West, the West’s uneasy hallucination of the East. It is a… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
Writing's like gambling. Unpredictable and sporadic successes make you more addicted, not less. — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
“You can't cure people of their character,' she read. After this he had crossed something out then gone on, 'You can't even change yourself.… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
“When the landed gentry cut up a seed cake for tea it makes no difference to the cake which of them holds the knife;… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
Egnaro is a secret known to everyone but yourself. It is a country or a city to which you have never been; it is… — M. John Harrison Copy Share Image
