Don DeLillo
Don DeLillo
Donald Richard "Don" DeLillois an American novelist, playwright and essayist. His works have covered subjects as diverse as television, nuclear war, sports, the complexities of language, performance art, the Cold War, mathematics, the advent of the digital age, politics, economics, and global terrorism. Initially a well-regarded cult writer, the publication in 1985 of White Noise brought him widespread recognition. It was followed in 1988 by Libra, a bestseller. DeLillo has twice been a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction finalist), won the...
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth20 November 1936
CityBronx, NY
There were moments when she wasn't talking so much as fading into time, dropping back into some funnelled stretch of recent past.
Bloomberg weighed three hundred pounds. This itself was historical. I revered his weight. It was an affirmation of humanity's reckless potential; it went beyond legend and returned through mist to the lovely folly of history. To weigh three hundred pounds. What devout vulgarity.
All human existence is a trick of light.
You gave yourself away, word by word, every time you opened your trap to speak.
What you see is not what we see. What you see is distracted by memory, by being who you are, all this time, for all these years.
A shrewd person would one day start a religion based on coincidence, if he hasn't already, and make a million.
When my head is in the typewriter the last thing on my mind is some imaginary reader. I don't have an audience; I have a set of standards.
There are no amateurs in the world of children.
Being called a 'bad citizen' is a compliment to a novelist, at least to my mind. That's exactly what we ought to do.
It's healthier to reject certain cautions than fall in line.
In cities no one notices specific dying. Dying is a quality of the air. It's everywhere and nowhere.
Only a catastrophe gets our attention. We want them, we depend on them. As long as they happen somewhere else. This is where California comes in. Mud slides, brush fires, coastal erosion, mass killings, et cetera. We can relax and enjoy these disasters because in our hearts we feel that California deserves whatever it gets. Californians invented the concept of life-style. This alone warrants their doom.
I am ashamed every day, and more ashamed the next.
Fame requires every kind of excess. I mean true fame, a devouring neon, not the sombre renown of waning statesmen or chinless kings.