The secret of flight is this -- you have to do it immediately, before your body realizes it is defying the laws.

Michael Cunningham

Michael Cunningham

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: American

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It's remarkable, being alive.

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.

But then again, in addition to paper and cardboard...a little illuminated box, that contains thousands and thousands of stories? People aren't fascinated by that? Really?

Who knows what succession of girls and boys sneak in through the sliding glass doors at night, after the mother has sunk to the bottom of her own private lake, with the help of Absolut and Klonopin?

I've been just wondering lately, if this is, you know, it. An apartment and a steady job and some people to love. What more could I want?

And when somebody comes up to me with big hair and gobs of makeup on and says, 'Can I help you,' it's all I can do not to scream, 'Bitch, you can't even help yourself.

If I were thinking clearly, Leonard, I would tell you that I wrestle alone in the dark, in the deep dark. And that only I can know, only I can understand my own condition. You live with the threat, you tell me you live with the threat of my extinction. Leonard, I live with it too.

I suppose at heart it was the haircut that did it; that exploded the ordinary order of things and showed me the possibilities that had been there all along, hidden among the patterns in the wallpaper. In a different age, we used to take acid for more or less the same reason.

He's filled with a sense of childish release, the old feeling that because you are sick, all your trials and obligations have been suspended.

I know you. I've seen it. And, knowing all, I release you.

Sanity involves a certain measure of impersonation, not simply for the benefit of husband and servants but for the sake, first and foremost, of one's own convictions.

She'd never been religious. She hadn't allowed grief to send her crawling to the church.

It's remarkable, being alive. Being, once again, someone walking through a dust of blowing snow...

She thinks of how much more space a being occupies in life that it does in death; how much illusion of size is contained in gestures and movements, in breathing. Dead, we are revealed in our true dimensions, and they are surprisingly modest.