Nick Hornby

“We get together with people because they're the same or because they're different, and in the end we split with them for exactly the same reasons.”

“There isn't so much to be afraid of, out there. I can remember thinking it was funny to find that out, on the last night of my life; I'd spent the rest of it being afraid of everything.”

“There's nothing you can't fuck up if you try hard enough.”

“Is the phrase "Deliciously politically incorrect" used with the same gay abandon in the U.S.? You come across it all the time here, and it usually means, quite simply, that a book or a movie or a TV program is racist and/or sexist and/or homophobic; there is a certain kind of cultural commentator who mysteriously associates these prejudices with a Golden Age during which we were allowed to do a lot of things that we are not allowed to do now. (The truth is that there's no one stopping them from doing anything. What they really object to is being recognized as the antisocial pigs that they really are.)”

“You had to live in your own bubble. You couldn't force your way into someone else's, because then it wouldn't be a bubble any more.”

“Every time people force themselves to carry on with a book they're not enjoying, they reinforce the idea that reading is a duty.”

“The point is you keep going. You want to. So all the things that make you want to are the point.”

“One thing about great art: it made you love people more, forgive them their petty transgressions. It worked in the way that religion was supposed to, if you thought about it.”

“Of course Tucker Crowe was in pain when he made [the record], but he couldn't just march into a recording studio and start howling. He'd have sounded mad and pathetic. He had to calm the rage, tame it and shape it so that it could be contained in the tight-fitting songs. Then he had to dress it up so that it sounded more like itself.”

“Sometimes you can see car crashes from a long way off, if the road is straight and both vehicles are heading towards each other in the same lane.”

“You're not allowed to say anything about books because they're books, and books are, you know, God.”

“...So please, be tolerant of those who describe a sporting moment as their best ever. We do not lack imagination, nor have we had sad and barren lives; it is just that real life is paler, duller, and contains less potential for unexpected delirium.”

“Being a freak isn’t the same thing as having a talent.”

“She regretted the explanation immediately, but that was because she always regretted everything. And then, after the regret had flared and burned out, she didn't care. He should know, she thought. She wanted him to know. She felt something for somebody, and she'd told him.”

“She had come out tonight because she believed there had to be a present tense, somewhere, and she'd followed Gav and Barnesy because she'd hoped they knew where it was. Is. And they'd dragged her to yet another haunted house. Where was the now? In bloody America, probably, apart from the bit that Tucker lived in, or in bloody Tokyo. In any case, it was somewhere else. How could people who didn't live in bloody America or bloody Tokyo stand it, all that swimming around in the past imperfect?”

“There was the same need for obscurity, the same suspicion that if a piece of music had reached a large number of people, it had somehow been drained of its worth.”

“He'd told her it was just a scratch and got cross when she hadn't offered morphine.”

“We had no irony when it came to girls, though. There was just no time to develop it. One moment they weren't there, not in any form that interested us, anyway, and the next you couldn't miss them; they were everywhere, all over the place. One moment you wanted to clonk them on the head for being your sister, or someone else's sister, and the next you wanted to....actually, we didn't know what we wanted next, but it was something. Almost overnight, all these sisters (there was no other kind of girl, not yet)had become interesting, disturbing, even.”

“I didn't say anything. But I could have pointed out that most life-changing says happen without your expecting them. I have spent what seems like half my life expecting the worst. And it never happens. But on the day it does, it will knock me flat on my back anyway.”

“The plain state of being human is dramatic enough for anyone; you don't need to be a heroin addict or a performance poet to experience extremity. You just have to love someone.”

“We have all lived through that shriveling moment when a parent walks into a room and repeats, with sardonic disbelief, a couplet picked up from the stereo or the TV. 'What does that mean, then?' my mother asked me during Top of the Pops. "Get it on / Bang a gong"? How long did it take him to think of that, do you reckon?' And the correct answer - 'Two seconds, and it doesn't matter' - is always beyond you, so you just tell her to shut up, while inside you're hating Marc Bolan for making you like him even though he sings about getting it on and banging gongs.”

“The unhappiest people I know, romantically speaking, are the ones who like pop music the most; and I don't know whether pop music has caused this unhappiness, but I do know that they've been listening to the sad songs longer than they've been living the unhappy lives.”

“He wasn’t Ringo, though. He was more like Paul. Maureen was Ringo, except she wasn’t very funny. I was George, except I wasn’t shy, or spiritual. Martin was John, except he wasn’t talented or cool. Thinking about it, maybe we were more like another group with four people in it.”

“It struck him that how you spent Christmas was a message to the world about where you were in life, some indication of how deep a hole you had managed to burrow for yourself”

“Most days, for the last dozen or so years, I attributed to Charlie, or at least to our breakup, most things that have gone wrong for me. Like: I wouldn't have packed in college; I wouldn't have gone to work in Record and Tape; I wouldn't have had an unsatisfactory personal life. This is the woman who broke my heart, who ruined my life, this woman is single-handedly responsible for my poverty and directionlessness and failure, the woman I dreamed about regularly for a good five years.”

“Tucker, please put him down," said Annie. "You're frightening Jackson.""He's not," said Jackson. "It's cool. I don't like that guy anyway. Punch him, Dad.”

“Anyway, all I'm saying is that there was this time--maybe it was a day, maybe a few days, I can't remember now--when everything seemed to have come together. And so obviously it was time to go and screw it all up.”

“¿Qué fue primero: la música o la tristeza? ¿Me dio por escuchar música porque estaba triste? ¿O es que estaba triste porque escuchaba música? ¿No te convierten todos esos discos en una persona de tendencia melancólica?Hay quien se preocupa, y mucho, de que los niños pequeños jueguen con armas de fuego, de que los adolescentes vean vídeos en los que la violencia es moneda corriente; nos da miedo que esa esa especie de cultura de la violencia termine por tragárselos como si tal cosa. A nadie le preocupa en cambio que los niños escuchen miles, literalmente miles de canciones que tratan siempre de corazones destrozados, de rechazos y abandonos, de dolor, tristeza, pérdida. Las personas más desgraciadas que yo he conocido, románticamente hablando, son las que tienen un desarrollado gusto por la música pop. Y no sé si la música pop es la causante de esta infelicidad, pero sí tengo muy claro que han escuchado esas canciones infelices desde hace más tiempo del que llevan viviendo una vida más o menos infeliz. Así de claro.”

“Defansçılar her zaman forvetçilerden daha iyi analizcilerdir.”

“İki haftamı ülkenizi dolaşarak geçirdim -ülkeniz, çılgın zamanlar mıntıkası ve televizyonda sürekli bir biçimde ereksiyon sorununu tedavi eden ilaçların reklamının yapıldığı o ülkeyse eğer- bu dergi için bilgi toplamakla görevlendirilmiş olarak: kırk yedi edebiyatsever, sinir bozucu derecede sakin olmakla beraber yüzü gülmeyen genç adam ve kadından oluşan, her ay bu köşedeki tüm iyi esprileri ayıklayan Hece Cümbüşü, artık Amerikan okuma alışkanlıklarından bihaber olduğuma karar verdi ve beni havaalanı kitapçılarına doğru (itiraf etmeliyim ki faydalı) bir geziye gönderdi. Bu sayede, biliyorum ki, en sevdiğiniz yazarınız Cormac McCarthy değil, hatta David Foster Wallace bile değil, Joel Osteen diye bir adam ki kendisi, hakkında bildiğim kadarıyla Cümbüş üyesi olabilir çünkü kusursuz dişlere ve kurtarıcımız İsa’nın rehberliğinde insanlığın mükemmelliğe ulaşabileceğine dair bir inanca sahip. Televizyonu her açışımda Osteen ekrandaydı -Allah şu yetişkinlere yönelik, seyrettiğin-kadar-öde kanallarından razı olsun!- ve kitabı Become a Better You (Daha İyi Bir Sen Ol) her yerdeydi. Sanırım, şimdi bu kitabı okumak zorunda kalacağım, sırf sizin ne düşündüğünüzü öğrenmek için. Gerçek bir hikaye: Texas Houston’da George Bush Havaalanı’nda, otuzlarında çekici bir kadın gördüm bu kitabı satın alırken ve ilginç olan şuydu ki kadın ağlıyordu bu işi yaparken. Aceleyle içeri girdi gözlerinden yaşlar akarak ve kendi kendine söylenerek, doğruca ciltli, çok satan, kurgusal olmayan kitapların sergilendiği bölüme yöneldi. Tahmininiz benimki kadar başarılı. Neredeyse tamamen eminim ki, suçlanması gereken kişi duyarsız bir herifin teki (kadının D15 ile D17 kapıları arasında bir yerde terk edildiğini tahmin ediyorum), ve aslına bakılırsa duyarsız Amerikalı erkekler, Hıristiyanlığın A.B.D.’de popüler olmasının sorumlusudur. İlginçtir ki, İngiltere’de erkekler zerre kadar duyarsız değildir ve sonuç olarak biz de neredeyse toptan allahsız bir milletiz ve Joel Osteen hiçbir zaman televizyonlarımıza çıkmıyor.”

“bu kitap minimalist bir ressamla ilgili ve konu minimalist sanat olduğu zaman fark ettim ki ben agnostik hatta belki ateistim.Bu kelimeleri kullanıyorum çünkü bence minimalizme ya inanırsınız ya da inanmazsınız -bir Hockney, bir Hopper ya da bir Monet söz konusu olduğunda size tanınmayan bir şanstır bu. Karşımızda Irwin var (şans bu ya sevilesi, düşünceli bir adam) turuncu bir zemin üzerinde türlü düz çizgilerden ibaret olan en son desen çizimleriyle:“Bakınca… tablolara algısal açıdan, gözünüzün havanın, uzayın hatta kısacık bir mesafenin orta yerinde takılı kaldığını fark ediyorsunuz: varlığınızın uzay-zaman süreklisinde kaynaşıyor uzay ve zaman. Tam bir meditasyon halinde buluyorsunuz kendinizi.”Size böyle bir şey olmazsa ne olacak? Demek istediğim, herkese olmuyordur herhalde bu, öyle değil mi? Ne kalıyor o zaman elinizde? Katoliklerin de komünyon ayinine katıldığınız zaman olabileceklerle ilgili benzer bir iddiada bulunabilecekleri geldi aklıma. İsa’nın bedeniyle incecik bir ekmek parçası arasında çok büyük bir fark var.”

“She was trying to say something else; she was trying to say that the inability to articulate what one feels in any satisfactory way is one of our enduring tragedies. It wouldn't have been much, and it wouldn't have been useful, but it would have been something that reflected the gravity and the sadness inside her. Instead, she had snapped at him for being a loser. It was as if she were trying to find a handhold on the boulder of her feelings, and had merely ended up with grit under her nails.”

“Linda seemed to recognize loneliness. Possibly she could see it sitting opposite her, sipping lager and trying not to lose its temper. It was an illness, loneliness--it made you weak, gullible, feebleminded.”

“(Even Tucker's way of not living could be described as living, if you had a crush on him.)”

“The cliche had it that kids were the future, but that wasn't it: they were the unreflective, active present. They were not themselves nostalgic, because they couldn't be, and they retarded nostalgia in their parents. Even as they were getting sick and being bullied and becoming addicted to heroin and getting pregnant, they were in the moment, and she wanted to be in it with them. She wanted to worry herself sick about schools and bullying and drugs.”

“So, as she walked down the stairs into the club, she was looking forward to a seething, teeming, wriggling, wiggling throng of dancers, many of whom she'd recognize: she wanted to see former pupils, local shopkeepers, museum regulars, all of whom would look at her as if to say, "Here we are! What kept you?”

“She was the spare room that never got tidied, the e-mail that never got answered, the loan that never got repaid, the symptom that never got described to a doctor.”

“When your sad--like really sad--you only want to be with other people who are sad.”

“This is the second Simply Red song on this tape. One's unforgivable. Two's a war crime. Can I fast-forward?”

“And she liked me. She liked me. She liked me. She liked me. Or at least, I think she did. I think she did. Etc.”

“I’m not the smartest guy in the world, but I’m certainly not the dumbest. I mean, I’ve read books like "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and "Love in the Time of Cholera", and I think I’ve understood them. They’re about girls, right? Just kidding. But I have to say my all-time favorite book is Johnny Cash’s autobiography "Cash" by Johnny Cash.”

“During the night, I have one of those dreams that aren’t really dreams at all, just stuff about Laura fucking Ray, and Marco fucking Charlie, and I’m pleased to wake up in the middle of the night, because it means stopping the dream. But the pleasure only lasts a few seconds and then everything sinks in: that somewhere Laura really is fucking Ray (maybe not exactly now, because it’s 3:56 a.m., although with his stamina – his inability to climax, ha ha – you never know), and I’m here, in this stupid little flat, on my own, and I’m thirty-five years old, and I own a tiny failing business, and my friends don’t seem to be friends at all but people whose phone numbers I haven’t lost And if I went back to sleep and slept for forty years and woke up without any teeth to the sound of Melody Radio in an old people’s home, I wouldn’t worry that much, because the worst of life, i.e. the rest of it, would be over. And I wouldn’t even have had to kill myself.”

“The Marie bit is easy enough to understand, then. The Laura thing takes a bit more explaining, but what it is, I think, is this: sentimental music has this great way of taking you back somewhere at the same time that it takes you forward, so you feel nostalgic and hopeful all at the same time. Marie’s the hopeful, forward part of it – maybe not her, necessarily, but somebody like her, somebody who can turn things around for me. (Exactly that: I always think that women are going to save me, lead me through to a better life, that they can change and redeem me.) And Laura’s the backward part, the last person I loved, and when I hear those sweet, sticky acoustic guitar chords I reinvent our time together, and, before I know it, we’re in the car trying to sing the harmonies on “Sloop John B” and getting it wrong and laughing. We never did that in real life. We never sang in the car, and we certainly never laughed when we got something wrong. This is why I shouldn’t be listening to pop music at the moment.”

“Even though we get a lot of people into the shop, only a small percentage of them buy anything. The best customers are the ones who just have to buy a record on a Saturday, even if there’s nothing they really want; unless they go home clutching a flat, square carrier bag they feel uncomfortable. You can spot the vinyl addicts because after a while they get fed up with the rack they are flicking through, march over to a completely different section of the shop, pull a sleeve out from the middle somewhere, and come over to the counter; this is because they have been making a list of possible purchases in their head (‘If I don’t find anything in the next five minutes, that blues compilation I saw half an hour ago will have to do’), and suddenly sicken themselves with the amount of time they have wasted looking for something that they don’t really want. I know that feeling well (these are my people, and I understand them better than I understand anybody in the world): it is a prickly, clammy, panicky sensation, and you go out of the shop reeling. You walk much more quickly afterwards, trying to recapture the part of the day that has escaped, and quite often you have the urge to read the international section of a newspaper, or go to see a Peter Greenaway film, to consume something solid and meaty which will lie on top of the candyfloss worthlessness clogging up your head.”

“We're here for such a short amount of time. Why do we spend any of it building sandcastles?”

“Vorweg ein paar grundsätzliche Regeln:1) Ich möchte keine Klagen hören, ich würde zu viel Geld für Bücher ausgeben, die ich dann doch nicht lese. Das weiß ich selbst. Ich habe stets die Absicht, sie mehr oder weniger alle zu lesen. Meine Absichten sind gut. Und schließlich ist es ja mein Geld. Ich wette, bei Ihnen ist es ähnlich.”

“Nen sajnáltam se a csapatot, se a többi szurkolót, csakis magamat sajnáltam, és most már tudom, hogy a futballbánat mindig ilyen. Amikor a csapatunk kikap a Wembleyben, a kollégáinkra vagy az osztálytársainkra gondolunk, akikkel hétfő reggel szembe kell néznünk, és az eufóriára, amelytől az élet megfosztott bennünket, és ilyenkor megfogadjuk, hogy soha az életben nem leszünk még egyszer ilyen sebezhetők.”

“a futballszurkoló természetes állapota a keserű csalódottság, függetlenül az eredménytől.”

“And now here Annie was, allowing her day to become gloriously colored by a communication from a man she'd never even met.”

“It's a mystery of human chemistry and I don't understand it, some people, as far as their senses are concerned, just feel like home.”