Herta Muller
Herta Muller
Herta Mülleris a Romanian-born German novelist, poet, essayist and recipient of the 2009 Nobel Prize in Literature. Born in Nițchidorf, Timiș County in Romania, her native language is German. Since the early 1990s she has been internationally established, and her works have been translated into more than twenty languages...
NationalityGerman
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth17 August 1953
CountryGermany
hate order needs
Women always need other women to lean on. They become friends in order to hate each other better. The more they hate each other, the more inseparable they become.
way happenings written
I have always written only for myself - to clarify things, to clarify things with myself, to understand in an inner way what is actually happening.
home sleep long
Some people speak and sing and walk and sit and sleep and silence their homesickness, for a long time, and to no avail. Some say that over time homesickness loses its specific content, that it starts to smolder and only then becomes all-consuming, because it’s no longer focused on a concrete home. I am one of the people who say that.
together different language
Language is so different from life. How am I supposed to fit the one into the other? How can I bring them together?
once-upon-a-time luck blame
Once upon a time they had some bad luck, and they blame everything on that.
memories hands literature
Anything in literature, including memory, is second-hand,
needs combat finished
To combat death you don't need much of a life, just one that isn't yet finished.
suffering doe humans
Suffering doesn't improve human beings, does it?
hands insanity demented
Only the demented would not have raised their hands in the great hall. They had exchanged fear for insanity".
hurt eye differences
I'm always telling myself I don't have many feelings. Even when something does affect me I'm only moderately moved. I almost never cry. It's not that I'm stronger than the ones with teary eyes, I'm weaker. They have courage. When all you are is skin and bones, feelings are a brave thing. I'm more of a coward. The difference is minimal though, I just use my strength not to cry. When I do allow myself a feeling, I take the part that hurts and bandage it up with a story that doesn't cry, that doesn't dwell on homesickness.
fear sleep and-love
In this county, we had to walk, eat, sleep and love in fear.