Michèle Roberts > Quotes

“What force had buttercups and earthworms and cabbages against the need of human beings for dwelling places, against developers’ chances to make money? Alive as a strange creature in an aquarium, the city stretched out its tentacles, grew and swelled, gobbling the pastures and hedgerows that lay in its path. Fields were bought, and new rows of houses built, and then the process repeated. Teams of workmen dug up hedges, filled in ponds and streams, put up neat streets of flat-fronted brick dwellings with steps and railings.”
― Michèle Roberts, The Walworth Beauty

“I write the books I want to write. I'm delighted if they sell well and I'm not expecting my publishers to just keep giving me money, but there's no way I want to bow to commercial pleasure. I mean, there's plenty of people publishing very good commercial stuff. If my stuff is commercial that's great, but it's not why I write.”
― Michèle Roberts

“I felt you might lose something precious by making and telling a story, because then all its parts stretched out, beads strung one by one onto a string in time, tangling along from beginning to end; whereas while the unspoken words remained inside you all of them connected one to the other in a mad circling dance which was indescribably beautiful, wholly present in just one second, an eternal now. When you smoothed and flattened and straightened the story out, made it exist word by word in speech, you lost that heavenly possession of everything at once. You bumped down to earth and told one moment at a time. Speaking and telling, you threw joy away and had to mourn the loss of paradise, the shimmering eternal moment which was outside time… Perhaps Eve’s punishment, thrust forth from paradise, was to become a storyteller.”
― Michele Roberts, The Looking Glass

“He longed for company. He was cruel because he didn't know whether or not people felt pain and he wanted to find out and also he wanted to give them his pain to keep for their own.”
― Michèle Roberts, Ignorance

“Love goes on. The love of friends. Friendship is my oxygen. I've said that often and it's true. Writing goes on too: I keep on building my paper house; my chrysalis”
― Michèle Roberts

“I was brought up in a tradition of reading and thinking at university that, in a sense, left the body out. It was all about your mind. That good writing didn't have a "self" in it, didn't have an ego in it. Oh my God, I had so much to unlearn when I became a writer!”
― Michèle Roberts