Karen Joy Fowler (born February 7, 1950) is an American author of science fiction, fantasy, and literary fiction. Her work often centers on the nineteenth century, the lives of women, and alienation.
The value of money is a scam perpetrated by those who have it over those who don't
You've done so many things and read so many books. Do you still believe in happy endings?" "Oh my Lord, yes. " Bernadette's hands were pressed against each other like a book, like a prayer. "I guess I would. I've had about a hundred of them.
I am the daughter of a psychologist. I know that the thing ostensibly being studied is rarely the thing being studied. (We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, p. 99)
Every mother can easily imagine losing a child. Motherhood is always half loss anyway. The three-year-old is lost at five, the five-year-old at nine. We consort with ghosts, even as we sit and eat with, scold and kiss, their current corporeal forms. We speak to people who have vanished and, when they answer us, they do the same. Naturally, the information in these speeches is garbled in the translation.
Sometimes you best avoid talking by being quiet, but sometimes you best avoid talking by talking.
The sunset you see is always better than the one you don’t. More stars are always better than less.
The spoken word converts individual knowledge into mutual knowledge, and there is no way back once you've gone over that cliff. Saying nothing was more amendable, and over time I'd come to see that it was usually your best course of action.
In everyone's life there are people who stay and people who go and people who are taken against their will.
. . . strange and fantastic things really happen. During a rainstorm in Australia, fish fall from the sky; several Southern states consider legislation that would make the licking of toads illegal; Lisa Presley marries Michael Jackson. You read these things and you think to yourself that realism may not be the best medium through which to express the real world.
It was the marriage that was important; Jane Austen rarely even bothered to write about the wedding.
Lots of people go mad in January. Not as many as in May, of course. Nor June. But January is your third most common month for madness.
There was something appealing in thinking of a character with a secret life that her author knew nothing about. Slipping off while the author's back was turned, to find love in her own way. Showing up just in time to deliver the next bit of dialogue with an innocent face.
You learn as much from failure as from success, Dad always says. Though no one admires you for it.
I still haven't found the place where I can be my true self. But maybe you never get to be your true self, either.
When there is an invisible elephant in the room, one is from time to time bound to trip over a trunk.
A man says something. Sometimes it turns out to be the truth, but this has nothing to do with the man who says it.
I'm unclear on the definition of person the courts have been using. Something that sieves out dolphins but lets corporations slide on through.
I wonder sometimes if I'm the only one spending my life making the same mistake over and over again or if that's simply human. Do we all tend toward a single besetting sin?
There's science and there's science, is all I'm saying. Where humans are the subjects, it's mostly not science
Baby, high school's over. High school's never over.