John Updike
John Updike
John Hoyer Updikewas an American novelist, poet, short story writer, art critic, and literary critic...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth18 March 1932
CountryUnited States of America
A person believes various things at various times, even on the same day.
faith quality test wrong
There is this quality in things, of the Right was seeming Wrong at first. To test our faith
life firsts grownups
Life, just as we first thought, is playing grownup.
feelings facts ease
The fact that we still live well cannot ease the feeling that we no longer live nobly.
book smell giving
It seems to me the book has not just aesthetic values - the charming little clothy box of the thing, the smell of the glue, even the print, which has its own beauty. But there's something about the sensation of ink on paper that is in some sense a thing, a phenomenon rather than an epiphenomenon. I can't break the association of electric trash with the computer screen. Words on the screen give the sense of being just another passing electronic wriggle.
encouragement government doe
Why does one never hear of government funding for the preservation and encouragement of comic strips, girlie magazines and TV soap operas? Because these genres still hold the audience they were created to amuse and instruct.
party men two
I would rather be seated between any two women than any two men at a dinner party.
writing thinking waiting
I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again.
light air
Love makes the air light.
glimpse photograph abyss
A photograph offers us a glimpse into the abyss of time.
photography art substance
Unlike the older, more humanly shaped arts, which begin with a seed and accumulate their form organically, photography clips its substance out of an actual continuum.
blue voice air
The scrape and snap of Keds on loose alley pebbles seems to catapult their voices high into the moist March air blue above the wires.
life games matter
Life is a video game. No matter how good you get, you are always zapped in the end.
football mother morning
The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such. The bee, his hive, Well-honeyed hum, And Mother cuts Chrysanthemums. Like plates washed clean With suds, the days Are polished with A morning haze.