Lorrie Moore
Lorrie Moore
Lorrie Mooreis an American fiction writer known mainly for her humorous and poignant short stories...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionSelf-Help Author
Date of Birth13 January 1957
CityGlens Falls, NY
CountryUnited States of America
believe kind i-believe
I've accrued a kind of patience, I believe, loosely like change.
writing thinking identity
Better to think of writing, of what one does, as an activity, rather than an identity to keep the calling a verb rather than a noun.
yellow tree
There seemed nothing so true as a yellow tree.
mean shoes feet
When you were six you thought mistress meant to put your shoes on the wrong feet. Now you are older and know it can mean many things, but essentially it means to put your shoes on the wrong feet.
want cool-person hey
I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable about this," he says. Say: "Hey. I am a very cool person. I am tough." Show him your bicep.
tired sleep fate
After a childhood of hungering to be an adult, my hunger had passed. Unexpected fates had begun to catch my notice. These middle-aged women seemed very tired to me, as if hope had been wrung out of them and replaced with a deathly, walking sort of sleep.
writing limits wonder
Begin to wonder what you do write about. Or if you have anything to say. Or even if there is such a thing as a thing to say. Limit these thoughts to no more than ten minutes a day; like sit-ups, they can make you thin
giving-up lovers classic
It was like the classic scene in the movies where one lover is on the train and one is on the platform and the train starts to pull away, and the lover on the platform begins to trot along and then jog and then sprint and then gives up altogether as the train speeds irrevocably off. Except in this case I was all the parts: I was the lover on the platform, I was the lover on the train. And I was also the train.
character self play
The people in this house, I felt, and I included myself, were like characters each from a different grim and gruesome fairy tale. None of us was in the same story. We were all grotesques, and self-riveted, but in separate narratives, and so our interactions seemed weird and richly meaningless, like the characters in a Tennessee Williams play, with their bursting unimportant, but spell-bindingly mad speeches.
spine i-realized
I missed him. Love, I realized, was something your spine memorized. There was nothing you could do about that.
running children kids
My new apartment might be a place where there are lots of children. They might gather on my porch to play, and when I step out for groceries, they will ask me, "Hi, do you have any kids?" and then, "Why not, don't you like kids?" "I like kids," I will explain. "I like kids very much." And when I almost run over them with my car, in my driveway, I will feel many different things.
waste wasting-time projects
Don't make your own life your project in your own life: total waste of time.
twenties metaphor possession
We had put almost all of our possessions in storage, which was a metaphor for being twenty, as were so many things.
endurance want
I want to pretend there's such a thing as requited love. As the endurance of love.