The apartment was entirely, was only, for her: a wall of books, both read and unread, all of them dear to her not only in themselves, their tender spines, but in the moments or periods they evokedโฆ Her self, then, was represented in her books; her times in her records; and the rest of the room she thought of as a pure, blank slate.
Claire MessudI think that one of the great things about spending - as in my case - twenty-something years with somebody is that at some point you do love the actual person. They're there little by little, the outline is really pretty clear.
Claire MessudI've always felt that if a project seems easy, or even attainable, why pursue it? I'll always find the hardest path.
Claire MessudI always say to my students, if you can do anything other than writing and be happy, then you should.
Claire MessudAnd then, into the fantasy, as into a dream, would come the thought: it's not like this anymore; the world has changed. Just the way, even at that time fully two years after my mother's death, I'd catch myself thinking about her as alive; and would suddenly remember, an admonitory finger of grief upon my breast, that she was gone.
Claire Messud