Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Siri Hustvedt

Quote by Siri Hustvedt

Work

A Plea for Eros: Essays

This work presents a series of reflective essays that examine the nature of eros and its expression in human experience. The writing delves into questions of love, attraction, and the emotional bonds that connect people. Through literary analysis and personal reflection, the essays probe the complexities of desire and its role in art, relationships, and daily life. The collection offers readers an intellectual exploration of how eros shapes human perception and interaction with the world. more

Author

Siri Hustvedt
Siri Hustvedt

Siri Hustvedt is an American novelist born on February 19, 1955. Her works are known for their deep psychological insights and exploration of female experiences. Hustvedt's novels often blend philosophy, literature, and psychology, showcasing complex characters and inner worlds. more

You May Also Like

“The four of them stand in the cockpit of the Misdemeanor as they motor from one town to another. They pass their house, which is not theirs any longer. Libby cuts the throttle, and they stall there in front of their sprawling memory. The four of them have come up for the closing; since all of them are owners, they all must be present to sign away this place. They have given most of the land to the Maine Preservation Society, and the house, they have sold to a family who promises not to tear the whole thing down, though they know that is a lie. The oak is yellow and peeks from behind the house. The glossy white windows of the great room look down upon them. It is cold and they all wear their foul-weather gear, bright-yellow slickers, except Gwen, in a red poncho to accommodate the swell of her belly. Libby keeps one hand on the tiller and the other she slips into Tom’s hand. He gives it a squeeze and then puts his arm around her. Danny moves from the stern to stand between Tom and Gwen. They all stand on the starboard side looking at the house. Libby and Tom, then Danny, his hand resting on his brother’s shoulder, and Gwen next to him, her arms crossed over her protruding belly, her hair long and dark hanging down her back. She is no longer a beacon, but a buoy in her poncho, red right returning. The sky is gray and low and promises a choppy ferry ride to the mainland, but there in the safe haven of the harbor it is calm and windless, and the house isn’t empty, but expectant. The flat water, dark green now, lies empty, the float pulled out the month before. Going from town dock to town dock, there is no need for a tender. There is no way for them to come ashore, even if they wanted to. A house like this is not supposed to exist now. It comes from another era. It is a ghost, like the schooners that sail through the thoroughfare every summer. It is an aberration, a figment. It is their great shingled memory.”

HomeLife LessonsHouseMemoriesFamilyFamily DramaSiblingsSibling RelationshipsLove Of Home
Book:North Haven
Create image

“Mom has reorganized the kitchen so that the one room that was everyone's room is foreign to me. My visits are punctuated with me whipping around, angrily demanding, "Where are the forks, WHY DID YOU MOVE THE FORKS?" and she has to calmly open the drawer on the other side of the kitchen as if she moved it just to ruin my life. I just found out where she puts the bowls and their new location feels like such a personal attack that I can barely talk about it without raising my blood pressure.”

HomeHumorFamily
Book:One Day We'll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter
Create image