We get somewhere we couldn't go otherwise and we profit from the trip, but we can't stay there, it isn't our world, and we shouldn't let that world come crashing down into the one we can inhabit.

Jeanette Winterson

Jeanette Winterson

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: British

Some suggestions for you :

I love you' is always a quotation. You did not say it first and neither did I.

He (Napolean) was in love with himself and France joined in. It was a romance. Perhaps all romance is like that; not a contract between equal parties but an explosion of dreams and desires that can find no outlet in everyday life. Only a drama will do and while the fireworks last the sky is a different colour.

We're here, there, not here, not there, swirling like specks of dust, claiming for ourselves the rights of the universe. Being important, being nothing, being caught in lives of our own making that we never wanted. Breaking out, trying again, wondering why the past comes with us, wondering how to talk about the past at all.

Choosing to be alive and consciously committing to life, in all its exuberant chaos- and it's pain.

A treasure had fallen into our hands and the treasure was each other.

A tough life needs a tough language - and that is what poetry is.

I thought about the dog and was suddenly very sad; sad for her death, for my death, for all the inevitable dying that comes with change. There's no choice that doesn't mean a loss.

I don't know which is worse: to be wrongfully accused or mistakenly understood.

Once you start recognizing your own obsessions, you know you're getting old.

I have learned what love costs. I never count it but I know what it costs.

She is a maze where I got lost years ago, and now find the way out. She is the missing map. She is the place that I am.

There was an ending - there always is - but the story went on past the ending - it always does.

London is a small place, and it is very incestuous. People know where you live. Everybody is sort of on top of each other.

Language always betrays us, tells the truth when we want to lie, and dissolves into formlessness when we would most like to be precise.