Erich Segal
Erich Segal
Full Name and Common Aliases
Erich Segal was born on June 19, 1937, in Brooklyn, New York. He is commonly known by his full name, but also referred to as Eric Segal.
Birth and Death Dates
Born: June 19, 1937
Died: January 17, 2010
Nationality and Profession(s)
Segal was an American author, screenwriter, and professor. He is best known for his novel _Love Story_ (1970) which became a worldwide success.
Early Life and Background
Erich Segal grew up in Brooklyn, New York, to a Jewish family. His father was an accountant, and his mother a homemaker. Segal developed a passion for writing at an early age and attended George Washington High School in Manhattan. He then went on to study English literature at Princeton University, graduating with honors.
Major Accomplishments
Erich Segal's most significant accomplishment is the publication of _Love Story_. The novel was written in just six weeks while he was teaching a summer course at Harvard University. It tells the poignant love story of two young lovers, Jenny and Oliver, who face the challenges of life and death.
Notable Works or Actions
In addition to _Love Story_, Segal wrote several other novels, including _Oliver's Story_ (1977), _Jenny's Story_ (1991), and _Man, Woman & Child_ (1978). He also worked as a screenwriter for various films and TV shows.
Impact and Legacy
Segal's work had a significant impact on popular culture. His novel _Love Story_ was adapted into a successful film in 1970, starring Ali MacGraw and Ryan O'Neal. The book sold over 30 million copies worldwide, making it one of the best-selling novels of all time.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
Erich Segal is widely quoted for his poignant and heartfelt writing style, which captured the essence of love and relationships. His work continues to resonate with readers today, offering a timeless perspective on human emotions and experiences.
Quotes by Erich Segal
Erich Segal's insights on:

I began to think about God. I mean, the notion of a Supreme Being existing somewhere began to creep into my private thoughts. Not because I wanted to strike Him on the face, to punch Him out for what He was about to do to me – to Jenny, that is. No, the kind of religious thoughts I had were just the opposite. Like, when I woke up in the morning and Jenny was there. Still there. I’m sorry, embarrassed even, but I hoped there was a God I could say thank you to.

Although champagne was served, the mood was curiously subdued. After this reunion, they would probably never meet together as a class again – at least not in such numbers. They would spend the next decades reading obituaries of the men who had started out in 1954 as rivals and today were leaving Harvard as brothers. This was the beginning of the end. They had met once more and just had time enough to learn that they liked one another. And to say goodbye.

They glanced at one another like tigers taking measure of a menacing new rival. But in this kind of jungle you could never be sure where the real danger lurked.

Professors of classics – not even a professor of English – professors of classics, they’re something sacred; it’s almost like being a priest.

Quiet heroism or youthful idealism, or both? What do we know? That life without heroism and idealism is not worth living – or that either can be fatal?




