If you remember the first time you saw Alma, you also remember the last.

Nicole Krauss

Nicole Krauss

Profession: Author
Nationality: American

Some suggestions for you :

Part of you thought: Please don't look at me. If you don't, I can still turn away. And part of you thought. Look at me.

Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a house across the field from a girl who no longer exists. They made up a thousand games. She was Queen and he was King. In the autumn light, her hair shone like a crown. They collected the world in small handfuls. When the sky grew dark they parted with leaves in their hair.

These things were lost to oblivion like so much about so many who are born and die without anyone ever taking the time to write it all down.

Getting a book published made me feel a little bit sad. I felt driven by the need to write a book, rather than the need to write. I needed to figure out what was important to me as a writer.

If they have to be named after anything at all, why can't it be things, which have more permanence, like the sky or the sea, or even ideas, which never really die, not even bad ones?

He was an average man. A man willing to accept things as they were, and, because of this, he lacked the potential to be in anyway original.

All I want is not to die on a day when I went unseen.

I would have let him go one finger at a time, until, without his realizing, he'd be floating without me. And then I thought, perhaps that is what it means to be a [parent] - to teach your child to live without you.

And if the man who once upon a time had been a boy who promised he'd never fall in love with another girl as long as he lived kept his promise, it wasn't because he was stubborn or even loyal. He couldn't help it.

Our kiss was niticlimactic. It wasn't that the kiss was bad, but it was just a note of punctuation in our long conversation, a parenthetical remark made in order to assure each other of a deeply felt agreement, a mutual offer of companionship, which is so much more rare than sexual passion or even love.

If it weren't for her, there would never have been an empty space, or the need to fill it.

Three taps means Are you alive? Two means Yes, one No.

She's kept her love for him as alive as the summer they first met. In order to do this, she's turned life away. Sometimes she subsists for days on water and air.

To me, this is the singular privilege of reading literature: we are allowed to step into another's life.