Graham Greene
Graham Greene
Henry Graham Greene OM CH, better known by his pen name Graham Greene, was an English novelist and author regarded by some as one of the great writers of the 20th century. Combining literary acclaim with widespread popularity, Greene acquired a reputation early in his lifetime as a major writer, both of serious Catholic novels, and of thrillers. He was shortlisted, in 1967, for the Nobel Prize for Literature. Through 67 years of writings, which included over 25 novels, he...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth2 October 1904
It is a great danger for everyone when what is shocking changes.
My passion for Sarah had killed simple lust forever. Never again would I be able to enjoy a woman without love.
They are always saying God loves us. If thats love Id rather have a bit of kindness.
I'm only saying I want you to be happy. I hate your being unhappy. I don't mind anything you do that makes you happy." You just want an excuse. If I sleep with anybody else, you feel you can do the same - any time." That's neither here nor there. I want you to be happy, that's all." You'd make my bed for me?" Perhaps.
To comfort me is like the wrong memory at the wrong place or time: if one is lonely one prefers discomfort.
Grief and disappointment are like hate: they make men ugly with self-pity and bitterness. And how selfish they make us too.
How often the priest had heard the same confession--Man was so limited: he hadn't even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater the glory lay around the death; it was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or civilization--it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt.
Fame is a powerful aphrodisiac.
I can't talk you in terms of time --your time and my time are different
He was impregnably armored by his good intentions and his ignorance.
Politics, war, marriage, crime, adultery. Everything that exists in the world has something to do with money.
The subject of a novel is not the plot. Who remembers what happened to Lucien de Rebempre in the end?
Death was far more certain than God.
You cannot love without intuition.