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Quote by Jane Avrich

“Only now, when it is too late, do I long for Dearth. I was a misbegotten child of bad blood and bile, and I mistook my own orneriness for cleverness. I presumed to know what happiness was - something I could possess, like a marble, or a man. Something I could only find elsewhere. But just when I started to find it at home, I outfoxed myself and lost it forever.”

Quote by Jane Avrich

Book:The Winter Without Milk: Whimsical and Cerebral Short Stories – Reimagining Oedipus, Lady Macbeth, Scheherezade
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The Winter Without Milk: Whimsical and Cerebral Short Stories – Reimagining Oedipus, Lady Macbeth, Scheherezade

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Jane Avrich

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Book:Ethics
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“إن قـلبـي لــبــلادي لا لحزبٍ أو زعيمِ لم أبِعـهُ لشقيـقٍ أو صديقٍ لي حميمِ لـيـس مـنـي لو أراه مرَّةً غيـرَ سليـم ولساني كـفـؤادي نيطَ منه بالـصَّـمـيـم وغدي يُشبه يومي وحديثي كقديمـي لـم أَهبْ غـيـظَ كريم لا ولا كيْـدَ لـئـيـم غايتي خدمةُ قومي بشقائي أو نعيمي”

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“What made more sense was that the bargain she was bound to was to go on living as she had been doing. The bargain was already in force. Days and years and feelings much the same, except that the children would grow up, and there might be one or two more of them and they too would grow up, and she and Brendan would grow older and then old. It was not until now, not until this moment, that she had seen so clearly that she was counting on something happening, something which would change her life. She had accepted her marriage as one big change, but not as the last one. So, nothing now but what she or anybody else could sensibly foresee. That was to be her happiness, that was what she had bargained for, nothing secret, or strange. Pay attention to this, she thought. She had a dramatic notion of getting down on her knees. This is serious... It was a long time ago that this happened. In North Vancouver, when they lived in the Post and Beam house. When she was twenty-four years old and new to bargaining.”

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Book:Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage: Stories
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“We should write as we dream; we should even try and write, we should all do it for ourselves, it’s very healthy, because it’s the only place where we never lie. At night we don’t lie. Now if we think that our whole lives are built on lying-they are strange buildings-we should try and write as our dreams teach us; shamelessly, fearlessly, and by facing what is inside very human being-sheer violence, disgust, terror, shit, invention, poetry. In our dreams we are criminals; we kill, and we kill with a lot of enjoyment. But we are also the happiest people on earth; we make love as we never make love in life.”

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