In every person's face, there is one place that seems to express them most accurately. With my grandmother, you always looked at her mouth.
Mona SimpsonI unplug the phone and close the door and just stick with it. I don't ever go out for lunch and I don't take vacations. I like to be awake when no one else is: either just before dawn in the morning or late, late at night. Silence helps.
Mona SimpsonOften, I think, displaced people imagine themselves leading double lives. So a portion of my identity has always been privately siphoned into what would have been if I had stayed in Wisconsin.
Mona SimpsonReading-not occasionally, not only on vacation but everyday-gives me nourishment and enlarges my life in mysterious and essential ways.
Mona SimpsonMy mother was a single parent, a speech therapist who worked for a company that kept a substantial percentage of the income they billed for her to teach stroke victims in convalescent hospitals to talk again.
Mona SimpsonEven as a feminist, my whole life I'd been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I'd thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.
Mona SimpsonI knew I would hate my best memory because it would prove that people could fake love or that love could end or worst of all, love was not powerful enough to change a life.
Mona SimpsonWe come into the world whole, all of us, but we don't know that, don't know that life will be taking large chunks out of us, forever.
Mona SimpsonThe transparency men have enjoyed for generations, about their ability to frankly work while also reveling in fatherhood, is still complicated for women. Which is not to say that anyone can have everything.
Mona SimpsonFashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.
Mona SimpsonOnce upon a time, my mother lived in the posh downtown of Homs, Syria. She described my grandfather as a king in a storybook, atop a horse, wearing a didashah and pointing a long arm.
Mona SimpsonWriters collect stories of rituals: John Cheever putting on a jacket and tie to go down to the basement, where he kept a desk near the boiler room. Keats buttoning up his clean white shirt to write in, after work.
Mona SimpsonSo many things that seemed crucial and excruciatingly hard ended and then didn't matter anymore, forever after
Mona SimpsonEverybody in America grew up without a father even if they had one. It was the fifties. They were working.
Mona Simpson