“German is to death what Latin is to ritual religion – entirely appropriate.” — John Fowles Death Copy Share Image
We all write poems; it is simply that poets are the ones who write in words. — John Fowles Poetry Copy Share Image
“No doubt our accepting what we are must always inhibit our being what we ought to be.” — John Fowles Copy Share Image
“If Rome, a city of the vulgar living, had been depressing after Greece, London, a city of the drab dead, was fifty… — John Fowles Life Copy Share Image
“Nu poti sa urasti pe cineva deja infrant.Care, fara tine, nu va mai fi niciodata om intreg.” — John Fowles Amor Copy Share Image
“She had only a candle's light to see by, but candlelight never did badly by any woman.” — John Fowles Candle Copy Share Image
All pasts are like poems; one can derive a thousand things, but not live in them. — John Fowles Inspirational Copy Share Image
Each age, each guilty age, builds high walls around its Versailles; and personally I hate those walls most when they are made… — John Fowles Age Copy Share Image
Duty is but a pot. It holds whatever is put in it, from the greatest evil to the greatest good. — John Fowles Duty Copy Share Image
“She smiled at him as they waited for their dessert, her chin poised on her clasped hands. 'You're being very silent.' 'That's… — John Fowles Behaviour Copy Share Image
“Our stereotyping societies force us to feel more alone. They stamp masks on us and isolate out real selves. We all live… — John Fowles Community Copy Share Image
I am going to explain to you why we went to war. Why mankind always goes to war. It is not social… — John Fowles Country Copy Share Image
“I could offer no consolation and I do not think he wanted any. There are situations in which consolation only threatens the… — John Fowles Consolation Copy Share Image
There are some men who are consoled by the idea that there are women less attractive than their wives; and others who… — John Fowles Copy Share Image
“It's despair that so few of us care. It's despair that there's so much brutality and callousness in the world. It's despair… — John Fowles Despair Copy Share Image
I do not plan my fiction any more than I normally plan woodland walks; I follow the path that seems most promising… — John Fowles Fiction Copy Share Image
“I don't believe in God. And I certainly don't feel chosen." "I think you may be." I smiled dubiously. "Thank you." "It… — John Fowles Believe in god Copy Share Image
That is the great distinction between the sexes. Men see objects, women seetherelationship between objects? It is an extra dimension of feeling… — John Fowles Copy Share Image
Whatever sympathy I feel towards religions, whatever admiration for some of their adherents, whatever historical or biological necessity I see in them,… — John Fowles Copy Share Image
“Men see objects, women see the relationship between objects. Whether the objects need each other, love each other, match each other. It… — John Fowles Real women Copy Share Image
The absurdly neurotic role you and the rest of your kind have always attributed to me Erato, the Goddess Muse of Erotic… — John Fowles Bears Copy Share Image
“Each pleasure we feel is a pleasure less; each day a stroke on a calendar. What we will not accept is that… — John Fowles Life Copy Share Image
“He stared to sea. "I gave up all ideas of practicing medicine. In spite of what I have just said about the… — John Fowles Copy Share Image
On the whole, dialogue is the most difficult thing, without any doubt. It's very difficult, unfortunately. You have to detach yourself from… — John Fowles Copy Share Image
“There are three types of intelligent persons: the first so intelligent that being called very intelligent must seem natural and obvious; the… — John Fowles Flattery Copy Share Image
“Ideeea ca ne plac oamenii este o iluzie pe care trebuie s-o pastram in noi daca vrem sa traim in societate. Dar… — John Fowles Amor Copy Share Image
“We think we grow old, we grow wise and more tolerant; we just grow more lazy.” — John Fowles Humor Copy Share Image
The moon hung over the planet Earth, a dead thing over a dying thing. — John Fowles Death Copy Share Image
