The translator ... Peculiar outcast, ghost in the world of literature, recreating in another form something already created, creating and not creating, writing words that are his own and not his own, writing a work not original to him, composing with utmost pains and without recognition of his pains or the fact that the composition really is his own.
Lydia DavisBecause I'm not writing all the time (thank goodness), my mind is sometimes pleasantly blank.
Lydia DavisAs the writer, I may choose to ignore the emotional heart of the matter, and focus on details, and trust that the heart of the matter will be conveyed nevertheless.
Lydia DavisNo one is calling me. I canโt check the answering machine because I have been here all this time. If I go out, someone may call while Iโm out. Then I can check the answering machine when I come back in.
Lydia Davis