Janet Frame Quotes

Nene Janet Paterson Clutha was a New Zealand author who published under the name Janet Frame. She wrote novels, short stories, poetry, juvenile fiction, and an autobiography. Frame's celebrity derived from her dramatic personal history as well as her literary career. Following years of psychiatric hospitalisation, Frame was scheduled for a lobotomy that was cancelled when, just days before the procedure, her début publication of short stories was unexpectedly awarded a national literary prize. Wikipedia

✵ 28. August 1924 – 29. January 2004

Janet Frame: 8 quotes0 likes

Famous Janet Frame Quotes

“There is no past or future. Using tenses to divide time is like making chalk marks on water.”

“I don't want to inhabit the human world under false pretenses.”

Source: Towards Another Summer

“Writing a novel is not merely going on a shopping expedition across the border to an unreal land: it is hours and years spent in the factories, the streets, the cathedrals of the imagination.”

“Life is hell, but at least there are prizes. Or so one thought.”

Source: The Reservoir: Stories and Sketches

“She grew more and more silent about what really mattered. She curled inside herself like one of those black chimney brushes, the little shellfish you see on the beach, and you touch them, and then go inside and don’t come out.”

Source: Owls Do Cry

“The word permanent... had its own kind of revenge on
those who misused it, for the Bible said that nothing was
permanent and everything came and went.”

To the Is-land, chap. 2, ‘‘In the Second Place’’, 1982

“From the first place of liquid darkness, within the second
place of air and light, I set down the following record
with its mixture of fact and truths and memories of truths
and its direction always toward the Third Place, where
the starting point is myth.”

To the Is-land, chap. 1, ‘‘In the Second Place’’, 1982

“What use the green river, the gold place, if time and
death pinned human in the pocket of my land not rest
from taking underground the green all-willowed and
white rose and bean flower and morning-mist picnic of
song in pepper-pot breast of thrush?”

Owls Do Cry, pt, 1, chap. 4, 1961

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