350 Quotes by Alice Munro

  • Author Alice Munro
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    She would have said that love was hocus-pocus, a deception, and she believed that. But at the prospect she still felt a hush, a flutter along the nerves, a bowing down of sense, a flagrant postration.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    The stinging nettles that we must have got into are more insignificant plants, with a paler purple flower, and stalks wickedly outfitted with fine, fierce, skin-piercing and inflaming spines. Those would be present too, unnoticed, in all the flourishing of the waste meadow.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    I actually had a long career as a flirt ahead of me. It’s quite a natural behaviour, once the loss of love makes you give up your ideas of marriage.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    A hero worn out by his struggle, one who had sacrificed his youth – that was how he might present himself, not without effect. And it was true, in a way. He was physically brave, he had ideals, he was born a peasant and knew what it was to be despised. And she too, just now, had been despising him.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    Certain suggestions, or notions, would make the muscles of her lean spotty face quiver, her eyes go sharp and black, and her mouth work as if there was a despicable taste in it. She could stop you in your tracks then, like a savage thornbush.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    My mother had a habit of hanging onto – even treasuring – the foibles of my distant infantile state.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    The final four works are not quite stories. They form a separate unit, one that is autobiographical in feeling, though not, sometimes, entirely so in fact. I believe they are the first and last – and the closest – things I have to say about my own life.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    But now he pays attention, he notices something about the bush that he thinks he has missed those other times. How tangled up in itself it is, how dense and secret. It’s not a matter of one tree after another, it’s all the trees together, aiding and abetting one another and weaving into one thing. A transformation, behind your back.

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  • Author Alice Munro
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    You would think that Rosemary would understand that. She should have understood what such a choice said – that Karin was not to be made happy, amends were not possible, forgiveness was out of the question.

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