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Quote by Colum McCann

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American Mother

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Author

Colum McCann
Colum McCann

Colum McCann is an Irish writer known for his profound character development and rich narrative techniques. His works often explore the relationship between individuals and society, as well as deep insights into history and culture. Born on February 28, 1965, McCann's writing career began in the 1990s, and he has published numerous novels and short story collections. more

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“We do not see the guns that bombard us; the attacking lines of the enemy infantry are men like ourselves; but these tanks are machines, their caterpillars run on as endless as the war, they are annihilation, they roll without feeling into the craters, and climb up again without stopping, a fleet of roaring, smoke-belching armour-clads, invulnerable steel beasts squashing the dead and wounded—we shrivel up in our thin skin before them, against their colossal weight our arms are sticks of straw, and our hand-grenades matches.”

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Book:All quiet on the western front
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“When I see them here, in their rooms, in their offices, about their occupations, I feel an irresistible attraction in it, I would like to be here too and forget the war; but also it repels me, it is so narrow, how can that fill a man’s life, he ought to smash it to bits; how can they do it, while out at the front the splinters are whining over the shell-holes and the star-shells go up, the wounded are carried back on waterproof sheets and comrades crouch in the trenches. — They are different men here, men I cannot properly understand, whom I envy and despise.”

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“The land of Maren, my island, calls to me in my fretful sleep. Like dancing ribbons of light, it winds its memories around my starved, yearning torso, tearing at my aching heart. “I am twirling now, unravelling a ribbon memory of light, warm sand and cresting waves around me. “To feel at breath with my unique, native land and to retrace my footprints across its terrains would be ... heavenly.”

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Book:All the Hope We Carry
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“I feel the searing, burning of my hands, caught alight by the red-tipped fire. Silent I am, mesmerised by the flames that have now caught me in their trap. Fire is bad. Fire takes people away. Claire’s words are accurate. I am in a burning dream world. One that I may never leave. My hands and arms are now alight and my eyes are stinging with tears.”

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“The familiar tune returns, its drifting quality heightened in pitch, like the sound of a bird, free flying through the soft breeze. I allow myself to believe that I may just be that bird, taking a small adventure across my tiny island. I could have wings that soar, high above the red stained streets into a much calmer, brighter sky.”

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