Harold Brodkey's Profile
Brief about Harold Brodkey: By info that we know Harold Brodkey was born at 1930-10-25. And also Harold Brodkey is American Author.
Harold Brodkey Biography
Harold Brodkey, American author was born in Staunton, Illinois on October 25, 1930. His birth name was Aaron Roy Weintraub. He grew up in Missouri. Harold Brodkey graduated Harvard University in 1952. He was working as a writer for the magazine The New Yorker and for some other ones. The writer won O. Henry award for his storeys. The best known novel of the writer is A Party of Animals, that was published under a different name –The Runaway Soul. It was published in 1991.
Harold Brodkey was married to Ellen Schwamm, who was also a novelist. Mr. Harold died in Manhattan, on the 6th of January 1996.
The short story collections of the writer: First Love and Other Sorrows (1958), Stories in an Almost Classical Mode (1988),The World is the Home of Love and Death (1997). His novels: The Runaway Soul (1991) and Profane Friendship.Harold Brodkey's quotation" section for more.
I am sensible of the velocity of the moments, and entering that part of my head alert to the motion of the world I am aware that life was never perfect, never absolute. This bestows contentment, even a fearlessness.Tags: Head, Life, Perfect
Being ill like this combines shock - this time I will die - with a pain and agony that are unfamiliar, that wrench me out of myself.Tags: Die, Pain, Time
I look upon another's insistence on the merits of his or her life - duties, intellect, accomplishment - and see that most of it is nonsense.Tags: Another, Her, Life
Almost the first thing I did when I became ill was to buy a truly good television set.Tags: Almost, Good, Television
Death and I are head to head in a total collision, pure and mutual distaste.Tags: Death, Head, Pure
I feel sorry for the man who marries you... because everyone thinks you're sweet and you're not.Tags: Everyone, Sorry, Sweet
I have thousands of opinions still - but that is down from millions - and, as always, I know nothing.Tags: Millions, Opinions, Thousands
Me, my literary reputation is mostly abroad, but I am anchored here in New York. I can't think of any other place I'd rather die than here.Tags: Die, Here, Place
This identity, this mind, this particular cast of speech, is nearly over.Tags: Identity, Mind, Speech
God is an immensity, while this disease, this death, which is in me, this small, tightly defined pedestrian event, is merely and perfectly real, without miracle - or instruction.Tags: Death, God, Real
I am in an adolescence in reverse, as mysterious as the first, except that this time I feel it as a decay of the odds that I might live for a while, that I can sleep it off.Tags: Off, Sleep, Time
I awake with a not entirely sickened knowledge that I am merely young again and in a funny way at peace, an observer who is aware of time's chariot, aware that some metamorphosis has occurred.Tags: Funny, Peace, Time
I can't change the past, and I don't think I would. I don't expect to be understood. I like what I've written, the stories and two novels. If I had to give up what I've written in order to be clear of this disease, I wouldn't do it.Tags: Change, Give, Past
I was always crazy about New York, dependent on it, scared of it - well, it is dangerous - but beyond that there was the pressure of being young and of not yet having done work you really liked, trademark work, breakthrough work.Tags: Crazy, Done, Work
If you like to read, sometimes it's interesting just to go and see what the reality is, of the word, of the seedy or not so seedy fiction writer, the drunk or sober poet... Sometimes you can go looking for illumination.Tags: Drunk, Reality, Sometimes
In New York one lives in the moment rather more than Socrates advised, so that at a party or alone in your room it will always be difficult to guess at the long term worth of anything.Tags: Alone, Difficult, Moment
It bothers me that I won't live to see the end of the century, because, when I was young, in St. Louis, I remember saying to Marilyn, my sister by adoption, that that was how long I wanted to live: seventy years.Tags: End, Remember, Saying
- A. Bartlett Giamatti
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- A. J. Muste
- A. N. Wilson
- A. P. Herbert
- A. S. Byatt
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