Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Orhan Pamuk

Quote by Orhan Pamuk

“It happens all the time to you fortunate literate people: A maiden who can't read begs you to read a love letter she's received. The letter is so surprising, exciting and disturbing that its owner, though embarrassed at your becoming privy to her most intimate affairs, ashamed and distraught, asks you all the same to read it once more. You read it again, In the end, you've read the letter so many times that both of you have memorized it. Before long, she'll take the letter in her hands and ask, "Did he make that state- ment there?" and "Did he say that here?" As you point to the appropriate places, she'll pore over those passages, still unable to make sense of the words there. As she stares at the curvy letters of the words, sometimes I am so moved I forget that I myself can't read or write and feel the urge to embrace those illiterate maidens whose tears fall to the page.”

Quote by Orhan Pamuk

Work

My Name Is Red

In this intricate and atmospheric novel, the reader is transported to the bustling city of Istanbul during the reign of Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent. The story revolves around a group of miniaturists who are commissioned to create a book of the Sultan's life. As they work, they are haunted by a mysterious figure known as the Black Painter, who challenges their beliefs and artistic abilities. The novel delves into the complexities of the Ottoman society, the power of art, and the search for identity amidst religious and cultural tensions. more

Author

Orhan Pamuk
Orhan Pamuk

Orhan Pamuk, born on June 7, 1952, is a renowned Turkish novelist. His works are characterized by their depiction of Turkish society, history, and culture, and have won him a wide audience. Pamuk has received the Nobel Prize in Literature and is considered a leading figure in Turkish literature. more

You May Also Like

“It happens all the time to you fortunate literate people: A maiden who can't read begs you to read a love letter she's received. The letter is so surprising, exciting and disturbing that its owner, though embarrassed at your becoming privy to her most intimate affairs, ashamed and distraught, asks you all the same to read it once more. You read it again, In the end, you've read the letter so many times that both of you have memorized it. Before long, she'll take the letter in her hands and ask, "Did he make that statement there?" and "Did he say that here?" As you point to the appropriate places, she'll pore over those passages, still unable to make sense of the words there. As she stares at the curvy letters of the words, sometimes I am so moved I forget that I myself can't read or write and feel the urge to embrace those illiterate maidens whose tears fall to the page.”

“We Miss You Mom Our hearts will heal, these tears of Love. It’s been days, we haven’t seen the sun. Dear Lord, we all want to cry. You’re with dad, so it makes us strong. It’s not the same without your smile. We know you’d want us to carry on. Try your best, as we all were one Together, will love, like you taught us. Our hearts will heal, but will need time. To see the moon and feel the sun. As your memories rest on our face. God has taken you to a better place. We Miss you, Mom.”

“When I teach "Introduction to Gender and Sexuality Studies" at UC Riverside, I show a series of documentary films about gendered violence and suffering. These films are about the horrific violence (sexual, physical, emotional) that women endure at the hands of men and the state, about the incredible toll that masculinity takes on men's bodies and mental health (as well as women's bodies and mental health), and about the tedium and unequal division of labor that destroys, or threatens to destroy, astrounding number of heterosexual relationships. Even though I have seen these films a dozen times, I still cry when I watch them, and I have always assumed that I am crying feminist tears. I have assumed I am crying for women. But more recently, something shifted. After wachting the films, rereading the numerous articles about gender oppression I had assigned, and listening to countless stories from straight women students about their abusive or just plain not-feminist male partners, I got in my car and breathed a huge sigh of relief that I am queer. I went home and told my partner, "Thank god we are queer." And I realized that I was crying queer tears for straight people.”