Russell Hoban
Russell Hoban
Russell Conwell Hobanwas an American expatriate writer. His works span many genres, including fantasy, science fiction, mainstream fiction, magical realism, poetry, and children's books. He lived in London, England, from 1969 until his death...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth4 February 1925
CountryUnited States of America
character might facts
I'd always assumed I was the central character in my own story, but now it occured to me I might in fact be only a minor character in someone else's.
men thinking differences
Sometimes I think that the biggest difference between men and women is that more men need to seek out some terrible lurking thing in existence and hurl themselves upon it. Women know where it lives but they can let it alone.
zoos freedom animal
The zoo is a prison for animals who have been sentenced without trial and I feel guilty because I do nothing about it. I wanted to see an oyster-catcher, so I was no better than the people who caged the oyster-catcher for me to see.
dark reflection night
An ordinary mirror is silvered at the back but the window of the night train has darkness behind the glass. My face and the faces of other travellers were now mirrored on this darkness in a succession of stillnesses. Consider this, said the darkness: any motion at any speed is a succession of stillnesses; any section through an action will show just such a plane of stillness as this dark window in which your seeking face is mirrored. And in each plane of stillness is the moment of clarity that makes you responsible for what you do.
self long age
Too-lateness, I realized, has nothing to do with age. It’s a relation of self to the moment. Or not, depending on the person and the moment. Perhaps there even comes a time when it’s no longer too late for anything. Perhaps, even, most times are too early for most things, and most of life has to go by before it’s time for almost anything and too late for almost nothing. Nothing to lose, the present moment to gain, the integration with long-delayed Now.
pain smoking want
What a weird thing smoking is and I can't stop it. I feel cosy, have a sense of well-being when I'm smoking, poisoning myself, killing myself slowly. Not so slowly maybe. I have all kinds of pains I don't want to know about and I know that's what they're from. But when I don't smoke I scarcely feel as if I'm living. I don't feel as if I'm living unless I'm killing myself.
inspirational people language
After all, when you come right down to it, how many people speak the same language even when they speak the same language?
horse believe i-believe
I believe that most of us would like to be thought well of by horses.
history effort language
Language is an archaeological vehicle... the language we speak is a whole palimpsest of human effort and history.
people world
There must be a lot of people in the world being wondered about by people who don't see them anymore.
response dies
Words have a life; without response they die.