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Audrey Niffenegger Biography

Audrey Niffenegger

Audrey Niffenegger (born June 13, 1963) is an American writer, artist and academic.

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Audrey Niffenegger Quotes

‎I never wanted to have anything in my life that I couldn't stand losing. But it's too late for that.

Too Late, Losing, Late, Stand, Life

Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust.

Labyrinth, Real, Thread, Under, Wire

The choices we’re working with here are a block universe, where past, present and future all coexist simultaneously and everything has already happened; chaos, where anything can happen and nothing can be predicted because we can’t know all the variables; and a Christian universe in which God made everything and it’s all here for a purpose but we have free will anyway.

Block, Christian, Coexist, Happened, Past, Variables

We are often insane with happiness. We are also very unhappy for reasons neither of us can do anything about. Like being separated.

Happiness, Insane, Like, Reason, Separated, Unhappy

I feel moderately bad about this whole thing. On the one hand, I am providing myself with urgently required survival skills. Other lessons in this series include Shoplifting, Beating People Up, Picking Locks, Climbing Trees, Driving, Housebreaking, Dumpster Diving, and How to Use Oddball Things like Venetian Blinds and Garbage Can Lids as Weapons. On the other hand, I’m corrupting my poor innocent little self. I sigh. Somebody’s got to do it.

Climbing, Corrupting, Hand, Self, Skills

The compelling thing about making art—or making anything, I suppose—is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances. Circe, Nimbue, Artemis, Athena, all the old 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, the new thing. Call it a swine, a war, a laurel tree. Call it art.

Army, Art, Artemis, Disposed, Vaporous, War

Martin said, "It feels as though part of my self has detached and gone to Amsterdam, where it—she—is waiting for me. Do you know about phantom-limb syndrome?" Julia nodded. "There's pain where she ought to be. It's feeding the other pain, the thing that makes me wash and count and all that. So her absence is stopping me from going to find her. Do you see?

Pain, See, Self, Waiting

we both smile and we are conspirators.

Conspirators, Smile

Chaos is more freedom; in fact, total freedom. But no meaning. I want to be free to act, and I also want my actions to mean something.

Act, Chaos, Facts, Freedom, Mean, Want

I'm at a loss because I am in love with a man who is standing before me with no memories of me at all. (Time Traveler's Wife)

Loss, Man, Memories, Men, Standing, Wife

Henry loves my hair almost as though it is a creature unto itself, as though it has a soul to call its own, as though it could love him back.

Creatures, Hair, Love, Loves, Soul, Though

Is it sad to fancy David Tennant when you're dead?

David, Dead, Fancy, Sad, Tennant

I feel that I an everything to her.

Everything, Feels

The pain has left but I know that it has not gone far, that it is sulking somewhere in a corner or under the bed and it will jump out when I least expect it.

Bed, Gone, Know, Pain

I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room

Dressing, Lunch, Mother, Singing, Summer, Thinking

Everything seems simple until you think about it.

Everything, Seems, Simple, Think, Thinking

I wish for a moment that time would lift me out of this day, and into some more benign one. But then I feel guilty for wanting to avoid the sadness; dead people need us to remember them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say "I'm sorry" until it is as meaningless air.

Air, People, Sadness, Sorry, Wish

You can still be cool when you’re dead. In fact, it’s much easier, because you aren’t getting old and fat and losing your hair.

Dead, Fact, Facts, Fat, Hair, Losing

You're the oddest person I've ever met, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried.

Ifs, Met, Mets, Oddest, Persons, Tried

We are walking down the street holding hands. There is a playground at the end of the block, and I run to the swings and I climb on and Henry takes the one next to me facing the opposite direction. And we swing higher and higher passing each other, sometimes in synch and sometimes streaming past each other so fast that it seems we are going to collide. And we laugh and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost or dead or far away. Right now we are here and nothing can mar our perfection or steal the joy of this perfect moment.

Away, Block, Lost, Past, Running, Takes

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