All Jeanette Winterson Quotes
- I don't know how to answer. I know what I think, but words in the head are like voices underwater. They are distorted. Answer
- In that house, you will find my heart. You must break in, Henri, and get it back for me.' Was she mad? We had been… Been
- I can't catch her by copying her, I can't draw her with a borrowed stencil. She is all the things a lover should be and… All
- The unknownness of my needs frightens me. I do now know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they… Circumference
- For my part, I think we need more emotion, not less. But I think, too, that we need to educate people in how to feel.… Act
- The key to happiness, she said, is tolerance of those who do not do as you do.' `What if those who do not do as… Alaska
- Gambling is not a vice, it is an expression of our humanness. We gamble. Some do it at the gaming table, some do not. You… Expression
- Autobiography is not important. Authenticity is important. The writer must fire herself through the text, be the molten stuff that welds together disparate elements. I… Authenticity
- The free man never thinks of escape. Escape
- What is it that you contain? The dead. Time. Light patterns of millennia opening in your gut. Every minute, in each of you, a few… Accounts
- Nothing has an unlikely quality. It is heavy. Emptiness
- Earth is ancient now, but all knowledge is stored up in her. She keeps a record of everything that has happened since time began. Of… All
- Her butler opened it for her. His name was Boredom. She said, 'Boredom, fetch me a plaything.' He said 'Very good ma'am,' and putting on… Boredom
- To me, these days will never end. I am always there, in that room with her, or if not I, the imprint of myself -… Days
- Perhaps all romance is like that; not a contract between equal parties but an explosion of dreams and desires that can find no outlet in… All
- Woolf wanted to say dangerous things in Orlando but she did not want to say them in the missionary position. Dangerous
- I dreamed I was a single moment in a single day. A note struck and vanished. A sounding. A reckoning. Gone. Day
- I seem to have run in a great circle, and met myself again on the starting line. Circle
- Why is the measure of love loss? Grieving
- You’ll get over it…” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don’t… Alter
- There are voices and they must be heard. Heard
- Capacity for love in its higher forms seems to be peculiarly human although even in humans it is still peculiar. Capacity
- Why did I walk so purposefully in a straight line? Where would it take me? He went round and round and we got there all… All
- Like all familiar objects, it had become invisible. All
- Do you wake up as I do, having forgotten what it is that hurts or where, until you move? There is a second of consciousness… Animal