The problem with the truth is, it's so often mild and clichéd.

Michael Cunningham

Michael Cunningham

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: American

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I'm not this unusual, she said. It's just my hair.

I know, speaking for myself, no matter what I'm able to do, no matter what book comes out and ends up on paper, I always had something bigger and grander in my head.

If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I cant go on spoiling your life any longer. I dont think two people could have been happier than we have been.

Here is what unsayable about us: Jonathan and I are members of a team so old nobody else could join even if we wanted them to. What binds us is stronger than sex. It is stronger than love. We're related. Each of us is the other born into a different flesh.

There is a beauty in the world, though it's harsher than we expect it to be.

It seems that she can survive, she can prosper, if she has London around her.

That may have been when they took their vows: We are no longer siblings, we are mates, starship survivors, a two-man crew wandering the crags and crevices of a planet that may not be inhabited by anyone but us.

It's the country that would have him, since he lacked the necessary papers for more promising places.

Here, then, is the last moment of true perception, a man fishing in a red jacket and a cloudy sky reflected on opaque water.

People are more than you think they are. And they're less, as well. The trick lies in negotiating your way between the two.

Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and a walk. The anticipation of dinner and a book.

Venture too far for love... and you renounce citizenship in the country you've made for yourself. You end up just sailing from port to port.

She could, she thinks, have entered another world. She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.

There's no comfort, it seems, in the world of objects.