The Time Traveler’s Wife
“The compelling thing about art – or making anything, I suppose – is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a substance in the world of substances. Circe, Nimbue, Artemis, Athena, all the sorceresses: they must have known the feeling as they transformed mere men into fabulous creatures, stole the secrets of the magicians, disposed armies: ah, look, there it is, a new thing. Call it a swine, a war, a laurel tree. Call it art. The magic I can make is small magic now, deferred magic. Every day I work, but nothing ever materializes. I feel like Penelope, weaving and unweaving.”
from The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger pg. 284
The Time Traveler’s Wife
“Time passes and the pain begins to roll in and out as though it’s a woman standing at an ironing board, passing the iron back and forth, back and forth across a white tablecloth.”
from The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger pg. 402
The Time Traveler’s Wife
“‘She wrote me a poem,”Clare says, again, in wonder. Tears are streaking down her cheeks. I put my arms around her, and she’s back, my wife, Clare, safe and sound on the shore at last after the shipwreck, weeping like a little girl whose mother is waving to her from the deck of the foundering boat.”
from The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger pg. 342
The Time Traveler’s Wife
“‘Clare, your hair is full of sand,” says Henry. I stop and lean over and beat my hair like a carpet with my hand. A whole beach falls out of it.”
from The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger pg. 295
The Time Traveler’s Wife
“I am like a caterpillar in a cocoon of paper; all around me are sketches of sculptures, small drawings that seem like moths fluttering against the windows, beating their wings to escape from this tiny space. “
from The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger pg. 284
The Time Traveler’s Wife
“…she smiles in an exhausted but warm sort of way, as though she is a brilliant sun in some other galaxy.”
from The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger pg. 170
