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Yann Martel

"Grief is a disease. We were riddled with its pockmarks, tormented by its fevers, broken by its blows. It ate at us like maggots, attacked us like lice- we scratched ourselves to the edge of madness. In the process we became as withered as crickets, as tired as old dogs."

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"Grief is a disease. We were riddled with its pockmarks, tormented by its fevers, broken by its blows. It ate at us like maggots, attacked us like lice- we scratched ourselves to the edge of madness. In the process we became as withered as crickets, as tired as old dogs."

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Amber Hurdle

"Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep."

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Amber Hurdle

"Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you."

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Amber Hurdle

"My grief lies all within, and these external manner of laments are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul."

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Amber Hurdle

"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not suicidal if that's what's freaking you out. I'm not fucked up in the head. I'm not deranged. I'm not suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. I'm just a brother who loved his sister more than life itself, so I get a little intense when I think about her."

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Amber Hurdle

"Closer, it's all right. Touch the man of grief.Do. Don't be afraid. My troubles are mine and I am the only man alive who can sustain them."

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Amber Hurdle

"There is no grief like the grief that does not speak."

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Amber Hurdle

"Grief does not change you. It reveals you."

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Amber Hurdle

"I felt the unfairness of it, the inarguable injustice of loving someone who might have loved you back but can't due to deadness."

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Amber Hurdle

"The inletour friend looks as he didwhen we first knew him,and until I wake I believeI will die of grief, for I knowthat this boy grew into a manwho was a faithful friendwho died."

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Amber Hurdle

"O my son Absalom,' Bean said softly, knowing for the first time the kind of anguish that could tear such words from a man's mouth. 'my son, my son Absalom. Would God I could die for thee, O Absalom, my son. My sons!"

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Yann Martel
"You might think I lost all hope at that point. I did. And as a result I perked up and felt much better."
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"So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can't prove the question either way, which story do you prefer? Which is the better story, the story with animals or the story without animals?"
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"Trees were not hard, irritable things, but discreetly orgasmic beings moaning at a level too deep for our brutish ears. And flowers were quick explosive orgasms, like making love in the shower."
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"Doesn't the telling of something always become a story?"
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"There are animals we haven't stopped by. Don't think they're harmless. Life will defend itself no matter how small it is."
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Yann Martel
"To her, writing is making stock and reading is sipping broth, but only the spoken word is the full roasted chicken."
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Yann Martel
"Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer."
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Yann Martel
"Let that be a reminder to you that the past is one thing, but what we make of it, the conclusions we draw, is another. History can be many things, depending on how we read it, just as the future can be many things, depending on how we live it. There is no inevitability to any historical occurrence, only what people will allow to take place. And it is by dreaming first that we get to new realities."
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Yann Martel
"Afterwards, when it's all over, you meet God. What do you say to God?"
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Yann Martel
"If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation."
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