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
Time seems to pass. The world happens, unrolling into moments, and you stop to glance at a spider pressed to its web. There is a quickness of light and a sense of things outlined precisely and streaks of running luster on the bay. You know more surely who you are on a strong bright day after a storm when the smallest falling leaf is stabbed with self-awareness. The wind makes a sound in the pines and the world comes into being, irreversibly, and the spider rides the wind-swayed web.
I am very unmusical. I can't carry a tune. I would never be able to play an instrument.
A person rises on a word and falls on a syllable.
It is possible to be homesick for a place even when you are there.
The greater the scientific advance, the more primitive the fear.
We don't really know how technology will affect narrative. That's the question. See, people used to say that the novel is going to die, but they would never say that movies will die with it, when in fact all forms depend on the narrative. I think if one of them fails, the others are going to fail as well. Maybe this will happen to both forms, and maybe movies will take a totally different direction with fiction.
Do people still shoot at presidents? I thought there were more stimulating targets.' (20)
Money has lost its narrative quality the way painting did once upon a time. Money is talking to itself.
There are dead stars that still shine because their light is trapped in time. Where do I stand in this light, which does not strictly exist? (155)
I was never either pro-culture or counter-culture. I was in a kind of middle state.
Everything is barely weeks. Everything is days. We have minutes to live.
Facts are lonely things
He wanted paper and something to write with, some way to sustain a thought, to place it in the world.
You have to break through the structure of your own stonework habit just to make yourself listen.