Rebecca McClanahan famous quotes

To name the world in your own terms, to tell your own story, is an act of authority and power. When you write, you are saying, in effect, 'I have a voice. I have a story. This is what I have to say.'
-- Rebecca McClanahan

#Writing #Names #Voice

I fall into books the way I fall into lust - wholly, hungrily.
-- Rebecca McClanahan

#Fall #Reading #Book

Memory is an act of meaning-making. It collects the disparate pieces of our lives and distills them.
-- Rebecca McClanahan

#Memories #Pieces

Effective metaphor does more than shed light on the two things being compared. It actually brings to the mind's eye something that has never before been seen. It's not just the marriage ceremony linking two things; it's the child born from the union.
-- Rebecca McClanahan

#Children #Eye #Light

Of the five senses, smell is the one with the best memory.
-- Rebecca McClanahan

#Memories #Smell #Five Senses

Almost anyone can be an author; the business is to collect money and fame from this state of being.

My spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places.

The primary requisite for writing well about food is a good appetite. Without this, it is impossible to accumulate, within the allotted span, enough experience of eating to have anything worth setting down.

I have little shame, no dignity – all in the name of a better cause.

History is not another name for the past, as many people imply. It is the name for stories about the past.

I think the names of colors are at the edge, between where language fails and where it's at its most powerful.

A love to Christ which is so cowardly and selfish that it is unwilling to proclaim by a public confession its faith in Him who hung before all the world crucified for sinners, is a love which is hardly worth the name.

The question is not if the candidate's heart is favorable to Christianity, but if he has Christ as his starting point even for politics, and will speak out His name!

Your inner voice is the voice of divinity. To hear it, we need to be in solitude, even in crowded places.

He pressed a kiss to my ear. “Do you feel stretched? Can you tell I’ve been inside you?” I nodded, feeling my knees go a little weak from the tone in his voice. “Good. I like knowing you can feel where I’ve been.