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Quote by James Frey

“Gauguin was a stockbroker in Paris, married, had five kids. One day he came home from work and told his wife he was leaving, that he was through supporting the family, that he had had enough. Just like that he fucking took off. He said he had always felt that he was a painter, so he moved to a rat-infested shithole and started painting. His wife begged him to come back, his bosses told him he was insane, he didn't care, he was following his heart. He left Paris, moved to Rouen, went from Rouen to Arles, from Arles to Tahiti. He was searching for peace, contentment, trying to fill that fucking hole he felt inside, and he believed he could fill it. He died in Tahiti, blind and crazy from syphilis, but he did it. He filled his fucking hole, made beautiful work, made beautiful, beautiful work... It takes a brave man to walk away, to care so much that he doesn't care about anything else, to be willing to obey what he feels inside, to be willing to suffer the consequences of living for himself. Every time I stand before his work it makes me cry, and I cry because I'm proud of him, and happy for him, and because I admire him.”

Quote by James Frey

Book:My Friend Leonard
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Work

My Friend Leonard

This book explores the complex relationship between the protagonist and Leonard, highlighting the emotional journey and the impact of their friendship throughout the story. more

Author

James Frey
James Frey

James Frey is an American writer born on September 12, 1969. Known for his memoirs, his work often delves into the complexities of human nature and the multifaceted nature of life. His book 'A Million Little Pieces' sparked controversy over its authenticity, but it provided readers with a unique perspective on memory, truth, and self-perception. more

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Book:Shirley
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Book:The Gods Are Not Dead
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Book:The Angel's Game
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“This assumption that she need look for no more devotion now that her beauty had passed proceeded from the fact that she had never realized any love save love as passion. Such love, though it expends itself in generosity and thoughtfulness, though it give birth to visions and to great poetry, remains among the sharpest expressions of self-interest. Not until it has passed through a long servitude, through its own self-hatred, through mockery, through great doubts, can it take its place among the loyalties. Many who have spent a lifetime in it can tell us less of love than the child that lost a dog yesterday.”

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Book:The Bridge of San Luis Rey
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