Timothy Findley Quotes

Enjoy the top 42 famous quotes, sayings and quotations by Timothy Findley.

Timothy Findley Quotes

No one belongs to anyone. Were all cut off at birth with a knife and left at the mercy of strangers. You hear that? Strangers. I know what you want to do. I know youre going to go away to be a soldier. Well-you can go to hell. Im not responsible. Im just another stranger. Birth I can give you-but life I cannot. I cant keep anyone alive. Not anymore.
— Timothy Findley —

People can only be found in what they do.

— Timothy Findley

He said that in a way being loved is like being told you never have to die.

— Timothy Findley

I still maintain that an ordinary human being has the right to be horrified by a mangled body seen on an afternoon walk.

— Timothy Findley

What you people who weren't yet born can never know is what it meant to sleep in cities under silent falls of snow when all night long the only sounds you heard were dogs that parked at trains that passed so far away they took a short cut through your dreams and no one even woke. It was the war that changed that. It was. After the Great War for Civilization - sleep was different everywhere ...

— Timothy Findley

You will live when you live. No one else can ever live your life and no one else will ever know what you know ...

— Timothy Findley

I have dreamt of a life you will never know; the life of a loving and caring companion. I simply thought you should know. I see that you are in trouble. I watch and listen to you. I want to help, but you won't let me. So be it. I love you still. Do what you will, I shall watch over you.

— Timothy Findley

Time is light, time is dark. You either dance, or you fall.

— Timothy Findley

Ede had been pregnant not quite the full term: eight months, two weeks, four days. She had lapsed into an extended silence - partly because she was still in mourning - still enraged and afraid of speech. And partly, too, because the child itself had taken up dreaming in her belly - dreaming and, Ede was certain, singing. Not singing songs a person knew, of course. Nothing Ede could recognize. But songs for certain. Music - with a tune to it. Evocative. A song about self. A song about place. As if a bird had sung it, sitting in a tree at the edge of a field. Or high in the air above a field. A hovering song. Of recognition.

— Timothy Findley

Here was an unknown quantity-a child in breeches with a blue scarf wound around his neck whose job it was to get them out and back alive. This ... was the greatest terror of war: what you didn't know of the men who told you what to do-where to go and when. What if they were mad-or stupid? What if their fear was greater than yours? Or what if they were brave and crazy-wanting and demanding bravery from you? He looked away. He thought of being born-and trusting your parents. Maybe that was the same. Your parents could be crazy too. Or stupid. Still-he'd rather his father was with him-telling him what to do. Then he smiled. He knew that his father would take one look at the crater and tell him not to go.

— Timothy Findley

I tell you Charlie, I was there waiting in that field. waiting for Ede and Tom to find me. You don't think two people come together for nothing, do you? They were together because I was waiting to be found ... "
Then she looked straight into my face and said to me: "You know it, too, Charlie. All that time you waited for me to find you. What if I hadn't? What if I'd said: I won't?"
She turned, and clinging to my arm, she surveyed the fields of snow the stretched away to the confining wall.

— Timothy Findley

Music is the worst of them - roiling and boiling - overly emotionalized on the one hand, overly intellectuallized on the other. Bach and Mozart indeed! Bach inevitably makes me think of fish in a barrel! round and round and round they go and nothing ever happens. Nothing ! Tum -de-dum-dum. Tum -de-dum-dum and that's all! Tum -de-dum-de-bloody-dum-dum! As for Mozart, his emotions did not mature beyond the age of twelve. never achieved adolescence, let alone puberty. his music merely combines a popular talent for slapstick and a commercial talent for tears. No - not tears. For sobs. Beethoven, pompous. Chopin - sickly sweet and given to tantrums - Tum -de-dum-dum- Bang! and Wagner - a self -centred bore. and Stravinsky - discordant, rude and blows his music through his nose

— Timothy Findley

I write against violence. I write against fascism. I write against one person dominating another.

— Timothy Findley

Literature was intended to be dangerous. Art was meant to be dangerous. Ideas were nothing if they were not dangerous.

— Timothy Findley

Elizabeth Hay has intelligence coming out of her fingertips - integrity, insight, and wonder in every paragraph of her writing.She connects. She stirs and provokes.

— Timothy Findley

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