I have to keep reminding myself that almost everybody is always lying.

Michael Cunningham

Michael Cunningham

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: American

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

Take me with you. I want a doomed love. I want streets at night, wind and rain, no one wondering where I am.

Oh, Mrs. Dalloway. Always giving parties to cover the silence.

I think pretty much everybody who says he needs money really and truly needs money.

She wants to have baked a cake that banishes sorrow, even if only for a little while.

It's the solitude that slays you. Maybe because you'd expected ruin to arrive in a grander and more romantic form.

You have started the book with this bubble over your head that contains a cathedral full of fire - that contains a novel so vast and great and penetrating and bright and dark that it will put all other novels ever written to shame. And then, as you get towards the end, you begin to realise, no, it's just this book.

She is, above all else, tired; she wants more than anything to return to her bed and her book. The world, this world, feels suddenly stunned and stunted, far from everything.

She is not a writer at all, really; she is merely a gifted eccentric.

Accept that, like many men, you have a streak of the homoerotic in you. Why would you, why would anyone, want to be that straight?

I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end. But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

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

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

Zoe loved Trancas's mother. She respected her exhausted and ironic hope for rebirth.