Youโre lost in your own world, in the things that happen there, and youโve locked all the doors. Sometimes I look at you sleeping. I wake up and look at you and I feel closer to you when youโre like that, unguarded, than when youโre awake. When youโre awake youโre like someone with her eyes closed, watching a movie on the inside of your eyelids. I canโt reach you anymore. Once upon a time I could, but not now, and not for a long time.
Nicole KraussYou're looking for ways always as the writer to bring readers into intimacy, you with them with you. Photos can sometimes do the opposite, create distance and perspective, but these somehow didn't. They somehow bring the reader closer.
Nicole KraussWittgenstein once wrote that when the eye sees something beautiful, the hand wants to draw it. I wish I could draw you.
Nicole KraussTell me, was I the sort of person who took your elbow when cars passed on the street, touched your cheek while you talked, combed your wet hair, stopped by the side of the road in the country to point out certain constellations, standing behind you so that you had the advantage of leaning and looking up?
Nicole KraussWithout memories to cloud it, the mind perceives with absolute clarity. Each observation stands out in stark relief. In the beginning, when there's not yet a smudge, the slate still blank, there is only the present moment: each vital detail, shocked color, the fall of light. Like film stills. The mind relentlessly open to the world, deeply impressed, even hurt by it: not yet gauzed by memory.
Nicole Krauss