“In this couple defects were multiplied, as if by a dangerous doubling; weakness fed upon itself without a counterstrength and they were trapped, defaults, mutually committed, left holes everywhere in their lives. When you read their letters to each other it is often necessary to consult the signature in order to be sure which one has done the writing. Their tone about themselves, their mood, is the fatal one of nostalgia--a passive, consuming, repetitive poetry. Sometimes one feels even its most felicitious and melodious moments are fixed, rigid in experession, and that their feelings have gradually merged with their manner, fallen under the domination of style. Even in their suffering, so deep and beyond relief, their tonal memory controls the words, shaping them into the Fitzgerald tune, always so regretful, regressive, and touched with a careful felicity.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“I am alone here in New York, no longer a we.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“The greatest gift is a passion for reading. It is cheap, it consoles, it distracts, it excites, it gives you knowledge of the world and experience of a wide kind. It is a moral illumination.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“The fifties - they seem to have taken place on a sunny afternoon that asked nothing of you except a drifting belief in the moment and its power to satisfy.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“Adversity is a great teacher, but this teacher makes us pay dearly for its instruction; and often the profit we derive, is not worth the price we paid.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“The greatest gift is the passion for reading. It is cheap it consoles it distracts it excites it gives you knowledge of the world and experience of a wide kind. It is a moral illumination.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“Reading is a discount ticket to everywhere.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“Biology is destiny only for girls.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“The greatest gift is the passion for reading.It is cheap, it consoles, it distracts, it excites,it gives you knowledge of the world and experience of a wide kind.It is a moral illumination.”
Elizabeth Hardwick“Now, my novel begins. No, now I begin my novel—and yet I cannot decide whether to call myself I or she.”
Elizabeth Hardwick, Sleepless Nights“Alas, the heart is not a metaphor, or at least not always a metaphor.”
Elizabeth Hardwick, Sleepless Nights