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Jeanette Winterson

Jeanette Winterson Quotes

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Famous Jeanette Winterson Quotes

“My father sent me away for a time to live in Dundee with a cousin, whose company, he hoped, would improve my solitude. But there is something of a lighthousekeeper in me, and I am not afraid of solitude, nor of nature in her wildness. I found in those days that my happiest times were outside and alone, inventing stories of every kind, and as far from my real circumstances as possible. I became my own ladder and trapdoor to other worlds. I was my own disguise. The sight of a figure, far off, on some journey of his own, was enough to spark my imagination towards a tragedy or a miracle. I was never bored except in the company of others.”

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Book:Frankissstein: A Love Story
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“A man needs understanding because he is existentially alone. He stares into the darkness. That was the difference between men and women, Leo thought. Men need groups and gangs and sport and clubs and institutions and women because men know that there is only nothingness and self-doubt. Women were always trying to make a connection, build a relationship. As though one human being could know another.”

MenUnderstandingWomenRelationshipsSolitudeMen And WomenConnectionBeing Alone
Book:The Gap of Time
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“The baby explodes into an unknown world that is only knowable through some kind of a story - of course that is how we all live, it's the narrative of our lives, but adoption drops you into the story after it has started. It's like reading a book with the first few pages missing. It's like arriving after curtain up. The feeling that something is missing never, ever leaves you - and it can't, and it shouldn't, because something IS missing. That isn't of its nature negative. The missing part, the missing past, can be an opening, not a void. It can be an entry as well as an exit. It is the fossil record, the imprint of another life, and although you can never have that life, your fingers trace the space where it might have been, and your fingers learn a kind of Braille.”

LifeBirthNostalgiaOpeningNarrativeAdoptionLonging For Death
Book:Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?
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“Jo era feliç, però feliç és una paraula adulta. No cal preguntar-li a un nen si és feliç, ja es veu. O ho són o no ho són. Els adults parlen de ser feliços perquè en general no ho són. Parlar-ne és com intentar atrapar el vent. És molt més fàcil deixar-lo que t’encalci. Quant a això, no estic d’acord amb els filòsofs. Parlen de coses apassionants però ho fan sense passió. No parleu mai de felicitat amb un filòsof.”

HappinessGrowing Up
Book:The Passion
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“I did not realise that when money becomes the core value, then education drives towards utility or that the life or the mind will not be counted as good unless it produces measurable results. That public services will no longer be important. That an alternative life to getting and spending will become very difficult as cheap housing disappears. That when communities are destroyed only misery and intolerance are left.”

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Book:Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?
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“To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don't get over it because 'it' is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. I've thought a lot about death recently, the finality of it, the argument ending in mid-air. One of us hadn't finished, why did the other one go? And why without warning? Even death after long illness is without warning. The moment you had prepared for so carefully took you by storm.”

Death And DyingDeath Of A Loved One
Book:Written On The Body
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“If you had never lived, and my mind was full of you--a fantasy figure with whom I am having an intense personal relationship--they'd give me treatment. They'd lock me up for being delusional. As it is, yes, it's an embarrassment. The black-armband days were easier. It was a sign to say--I am a bit odd. Give me space. Give me time. Grief takes time. I am grieving. I discover that grieving means living with someone who is no longer there.”

DeathLossGriefMourningDelusionsEmbarassment
Book:Night Side of the River
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“Every night I want to be Heathcliff with Cathy tapping at the window. I want to be Hamlet on the windy battlements. I want the Flying Dutchman to dock. I want what everyone who has lost someone wants: a visitation. Every second, someone dying is promising to come back from the dead. Every hour, waiting for it to happen, someone living notches up another hour lost. For the Dead, time stops. For the living, time slows. I am in slow-motion now. It takes me twice as long to clean my teeth, half the morning to make coffee and wash the cup. When I go shopping, I don't remember what I need. That's because it's you I need. I stare at the bag of potatoes, the packet of bacon. Absurd. Go home.”

DeathLossGriefMourningSurvivorsDead PeopleSlowness
Book:Night Side of the River
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“How could I not go on talking to you? How could I not expect to see you when it's the end of the day? Our life together was many things, concrete, tangible things, that included bacon, potatoes, coffee and toothpaste, but it was also a pattern. We had flow, colour, texture. We were the originators and makers of the shared life that we worked on every day. Now, I have to work on it alone. What I have are memories. The past. The present is no longer a work in progress.”

DeathRelationshipsMemoriesLossGriefPatternsMourningDaily LifeDay To Day
Book:Night Side of the River
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“We're a lukewarm people for all our feast days and hard work. Not much touches us, but we long to be touched. We lie awake at night willing the darkness to part and show us a vision. Our children frighten us in their intimacy, but we make sure they grow up like us. Lukewarm like us. On a night like this, hands and faces hot, we can believe that tomorrow will show us angels in jars and that the well-known woods will suddenly reveal another path. Last time we had a bonfire, a neighbour tried to pull down the boards of his house. [...] I sometimes wonder why none of us tried to stop him. I think we wanted him to do it, to do it for us. To tear down our long-houred lives and let us start again. Clean and simple with open hands.”

Longing
Book:The Passion
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