Edna O'Brien
Edna O'Brien
Edna O'Brienis an Irish novelist, memoirist, playwright, poet and short story writer. Philip Roth has described her "the most gifted woman now writing in English", while former President of Ireland Mary Robinson has cited her as "one of the great creative writers of her generation."...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth15 December 1932
CountryIreland
dream morning real
The other me, who did not mean to drown herself, went under the sea and remained there for a long time. Eventually she surfaced near Japan and people gave her gifts but she had been so long under the sea she did not recognize what they were. She is a sly one. Mostly at night we commune. Night. Harbinger of dream and nightmare and bearer of omens which defy the music of words. In the morning the fear of her going is very real and very alarming. It can make one tremble. Not that she cares. She is the muse. I am the messenger.
real spring winter
In a way Winter is the real Spring - the time when the inner things happen, the resurgence of nature.
real games people
There was always a real reason for everything - why spoons tarnished, and jam furred, and people declined into God, or drink, or card games.
love people like-you
...people liking you or not liking you is an accident and is to do with them and not you. That goes for love too, only more so.
lonely
You have to be lonely to be a writer
nurse training calling
She was an auxiliary nurse but training to be a true nurse because that was her calling, to serve mankind. She was a Martha. There were Marys and Marthas, but Marys got all the limelight because of being Christ's handmaiden, but Marthas were far more sincere.
horse mushrooms ponies
Wherever there were horses or ponies the mushrooms always sprang up.
moments inadequate
In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things.
teeth sin holy
If the Holy Communion touched my teeth, I thought that was a mortal sin
self cells people
All my life I had feared imprisonment, the nun's cell, the hospital bed, the places where one faced the self without distraction, without the crutches of other people.
faces firsts madness
It was the first time that I came face to face with madness and feared it and was fascinated by it.
writing fetus
Writing is like carrying a fetus.
mother jesus hate
Oh, God, who does not exist, you hate women, otherwise you'd have made them different. And Jesus, who snubbed your mother, you hate them more.
heart dark fit
After that dark woman you search for someone who will fit into the irregular corners of your heart.