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Jeanette Winterson

"Long looking at paintings is equivalent to being dropped into a foreign city, where gradually, out of desire and despair, a few key words, then a little syntax make a clearing in the silence. Art... is a foreign city, and we deceive ourselves when we think it familiar... We have to recognize that the language of art, all art, is not our mother-tongue."

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"Long looking at paintings is equivalent to being dropped into a foreign city, where gradually, out of desire and despair, a few key words, then a little syntax make a clearing in the silence. Art... is a foreign city, and we deceive ourselves when we think it familiar... We have to recognize that the language of art, all art, is not our mother-tongue."

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Amber Hurdle

"Logic: The art of thinking and reasoning in strict accordance with the limitations and incapacities of the human misunderstanding."

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Amber Hurdle

"History develops, art stands still."

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Amber Hurdle

"To catch a husband is an art; to hold him is a job."

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Amber Hurdle

"You do not need a boyfriend or a girlfriend to write an emotional poet, because poetry is beyond hooks and holes."

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Amber Hurdle

"Music heals all forms of misery."

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Amber Hurdle

"Modernity is the transient, the fleeting, the contingent; it is one half of art, the other being the eternal and the immovable."

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Amber Hurdle

"The play was a great success, but audience was a dismal failure."

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Amber Hurdle

"The man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time; it all comes to him by pure gift; he might as well regard the sun and moon as his chattels."

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Amber Hurdle

"The only way to avoid being unhappy is to close yourself up in Art and to count for nothing all the rest."

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Amber Hurdle

"Only sick music makes money today."

Explore more quotes by Jeanette Winterson

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Jeanette Winterson
"Shakespeare shook his head and sunk his chin into his ruff, making him look more owl-like than ever. "I have written about other worlds often enough. I have said what I can say. There are many kinds of reality. This is but one kind."
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Jeanette Winterson
"I want to touch you.''And if you did touch me, what then?''I would find a language of beginning."
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Jeanette Winterson
"Explore me,' you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I'm free, coughed up like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognise myself again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon's wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know."
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Jeanette Winterson
"Children do not find fault with their parents until later. In the beginning, the love you get is the love that sets."
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Jeanette Winterson
"You act out what it feels like to be the one who doesn't belong. And you act it out by trying to do to others what has been done to you."
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Jeanette Winterson
"You are still the colour of my blood. You are my blood. When I look in the mirror it's not my own face I see. Your body is twice. Once you once me. Can I be sure which is which?"
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Jeanette Winterson
"At bed-time I went into my room and put out the light. I didn't get undressed. I lay on my bed and looked out of the window at the stars. I read in a book that the stars can take you anywhere. I've never wanted to be an astronaut because of the helmets. If I were up there on the moon, or by the Milky Way, I'd want to feel the stars round my head. I'd want them in my hair the way they are in paintings of the gods. I'd want my whole body to feel the space, the empty space and points of light. That's how dancers must feel, dancers and acrobats, just for a second, that freedom."
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Jeanette Winterson
"Books, for me, are a home. Books don't make a home - they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and space. There is warmth there too - a hearth. I sit down with a book and I am warm."
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Jeanette Winterson
"There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other's names. Naming is a difficult and time-consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name."
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Jeanette Winterson
"He: What's the matter with you?Me: Nothing.Nothing was slowly clotting my arteries. Nothing slowly numbing my soul. Caught by nothing, saying nothing, nothingness becomes me. When I am nothing they will say surprised in the way that they are forever surprised, "but there was nothing the matter with her."
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