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Quote by David Mitchell

Work

The Bone Clocks

A gripping narrative that intertwines the lives of several individuals across different time periods, examining the passage of time and its impact on personal and collective memories. more

Author

David Mitchell
David Mitchell

David Mitchell is a British novelist known for his unique narrative techniques and profound humanistic concerns. His works often blend humor, satire, and philosophical thinking, winning him a wide audience. more

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“We closed the deal and moved to New York. Where in fact I had lived before, from the time I was twenty-one and just out of the English Department at Berkeley and starting work at Vogue (a segue so profoundly unnatural that when I was asked by the Condé Nast personnel department to name the languages in which I was fluent I could think only of Middle English) until I was twenty-nine and just married.”

“Zombie!” Sammy calls. “I knew it was you.” Zombie? “Where are you taking him?” Ben says to me in a deep voice. I don’t remember it being that deep. Is my memory bad or is he lowering it on purpose, to sound older? “Zombie, that’s Cassie,” Sam chides him. “You know—Cassie.” “Cassie?” Like he’s never heard the name before. “Zombie?” I say, because I really haven’t heard that name before. I pull off the cap, thinking it might help him recognize me, then immediately regret it. I know what my hair must look like. “We go to the same high school,” I say, drawing my fingers hastily through my chopped-off locks. “I sit in front of you in Honors Chemistry.” Ben shakes his head like he’s clearing out the cobwebs. Sammy goes, “I told you she was coming.” “Quiet, Sam,” I scold him. “Sam?” Ben asks. “My name is Nugget now, Cassie,” Sam informs me. “Well, sure it is.” I turn to Ben. “You know my brother.”

“Remember - when you came back from the states thirty years ago, and you had caught on to the importance of putting up a good front, and keeping it up at all costs. Yes, and you make a bundle of those wrapping papers of yours! And now you yourself are nothing but wrapping paper. With nothing inside.”