574 Quotes by Saul Bellow

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language

Psychoanalysis pretends to investigate the Unconscious. The Unconscious by definition is what you are not conscious of. But the Analysts already know what's in it. They should, because they put it all in beforehand. It's like an Easter Egg hunt.

A novel is balanced between a few true impressions and the multitude of false ones that make up most of what we call life.Â

Unless you made your life a turning point, there was no reason for existing.

We do not remember days; we remember moments.

The lawns looked artificial, like green excelsior or packing material.

Her words showered down upon us like little glass pellets.