Peter Høeg Quotes
34 quotes
in 647 categories
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The knives in my apartment are only sharp enough to open envelopes with. Cutting a slice of coarse bread is on the borderline of their…
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The body's pain is so paper-thin and insignificant compared to that of the mind.
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The great systems that inform the world about the truth and life invariably claim to be absolutely truthful and well-balanced. In reality they are quaking…
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I like him. I have a weakness for losers. Invalids, foreigners, the fat boy of the class, the ones nobody ever wants to dance with.…
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He boils milk with fresh ginger, a quarter of a vanilla bean, and tea that is so dark and fine-leaved that it looks like black…
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There's a widespread notion that children are open, that the truth about their inner selves just seeps out of them. That's all wrong. No one…
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I don't fall in love anymore. Just like I don't get the mumps.
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When you're young, you think that sex is the culmination of intimacy. Later you discover that it's barely the beginning.
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There is one way to understand another culture. Living it. Move into it, ask to be tolerated as a guest, learn the language. At some…
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Grief is a gift, something you have to earn.
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Whining is a virus, a lethal, infectious, epidemic disease.
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I have sat in the dark and looked at them both, the child and the woman. And the feeling has become too much. It is…
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The problem with anger against God is that it's impossible to go higher in the system to complain.
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..That's where we humans make a mistake. We don't see the utterly amazing when it comes to us disguised as the ordinary.
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Confronted with people who have power, and who enjoy using it, I turn into a different person, a baser and meaner one.
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There's a look of mischief in his eyes. 'Smilla. Why is it that such an elegant and petite girl like you has such a rough…
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When my mother didn't come back I realized that any moment could be the last. Nothing in life should simply be a passage from one…
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To want to understand is an attempt to recapture something we have lost.
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Maybe it's wrong when we remember breakthroughs to our own being as something that occurs in discrete, extraordinary moments. Maybe falling in love, the piercing…
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She was transparent, like a watercolor. As if she were about to dissolve in sound, in tones not yet created.
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