Annie Proulx Quotes
40 quotes
in 725 categories
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Change itself is what fascinates me. I am drawn, as a moth to the flame, by edge situations, by situations of metamorphosis.
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No wonder, he thought, that the panhandle people were a godly lot, for they lived in sudden, violent atmospheres. Weather kept them humble.
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But the only rhyme he could summon for 'out' was 'sauerkraut,' which lacked poetic glory. He let it go. The right line would come in…
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Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.
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If you are looking for smart judging based on merit, skip the Academy Awards next year and pay attention to the Independent Spirit Awards.
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In a rough way the short story writer is to the novelist as a cabinetmaker is to a house carpenter.
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If you get the landscape right, the characters will step out of it, and they'll be in the right place.
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I think it's important to leave spaces in a story for readers to fill in from their own experience.
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Develop craftsmanship through years of wide reading.
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What we fear we often rage against.
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If a piece ofknotted string can unleash the wind and if a drowned man can awaken... then I believe a broken man can heal.
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I find it satisfying and intellectually stimulating to work with the intensity, brevity, balance and word play of the short story.
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Walking on the land or digging in the fine soil I am intensely aware that time quivers slightly, changes occurring in imperceptible and minute ways,…
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It is my feeling that a story is not finished until it is read, and that the reader finishes it through his or her life…
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You know, one of the tragedies of real life is that there is no background music.
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... there are four women in every man’s heart. The Maid in the Meadow, the Demon Lover, the Stouthearted Woman, the Tall and Quiet Woman.
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Ordinary parties, he thought, were subtle games of sexual and social badminton...
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I didn't have a chance to buy you anything," she said, then held both closed hands toward him. Uncurled her fingers. In each cupped palm…
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A spinning coin, still balanced on its rim, may fall in either direction.
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Their silence comfortable. Something unfolding. But what? Not love, which wrenched and wounded. Not love, which came only once.
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