Dave Eggers

Dave
Eggers
1970

American Writer, Editor, Publisher, Novelist and Screenwriter, known for memoir "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius"

Author Quotes

They took my mother?s stomach out about six months ago. At that point, there wasn?t a lot left to remove?they had already taken out [I would use the medical terms here if I knew them] the rest of it about a year before. Then they tied the [something] to the [something], hoped that they had removed the offending portion, and set her on a schedule of chemotherapy. But of course they didn?t get it all. They had left some of it and it had grown, it had come back, it had laid eggs, was stowed away, was stuck to the side of the spaceship. She had seemed good for a while, had done the chemo, had gotten the wigs, and then her hair had grown back?darker, more brittle. But six months later she began to have pain again? Was it indigestion? It could just be indigestion, of course, the burping and the pain, the leaning over the kitchen table at dinner; people have indigestion; people take Tums; Hey Mom, should I get some Tums??but when she went in again, and they had opened her up?a phrase they used?and had looked inside, it was staring out at them, at the doctors, like a thousand writhing worms under a rock, swarming, shimmering, wet and oily?

Tim O'Brien's book about Vietnam, 'The Things They Carried', has won every award, is studied in college and is considered to be definitive. But it's fiction.

We feel that to reveal embarrassing or private things, like, say, masturbatory habits (for me, about once a day, usually in the shower), we have given someone something, that, like a primitive person fearing that a photographer will steal his soul, we identify our secrets, our pasts and their blotches, with our identity, that revealing our habits or losses or deeds somehow makes one less of oneself. But it's just the opposite, more is more is more?more bleeding, more giving. These things, details, stories, whatever, are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs for anyone to see. What does he care where it is, who sees it, this snake, and his skin? He leaves it where he molts. Hours, days or months later, we come across a snake's long-shed skin and we know something of the snake, we know that it's of this approximate girth and that approximate length, but we know very little else. Do we know where the snake is now? What the snake is thinking now? No. By now the snake could be wearing fur; the snake could be selling pencils in Hanoi. The skin is no longer his, he wore it because it grew from him, but then it dried and slipped off and he and everyone could look at it.

We've sent over 180 million frowns from the U.S alone, and you can bet that has an effect on the regime.

WHEN we don't get the results we want in our military endeavors, we don't blame the soldiers.

You better [start writing] now because you know how to write, and you have fingers, and you have this one life, and during this one life, you should put your words down, and make your voice heard, and then let others hear your voice. And the only way any of that?s going to happen is if you actually do it. People can?t read the thoughts in your head. They can only read the thoughts you put down, carefully and with great love, on the page.

You wouldn?t believe what people will believe once they know our story. They?re ready for anything, basically?will believe anything, because they?ve been thrown off-balance, are still wondering if any of this is true, our story in general, but aren?t sure and are terrified of offending us.

They were so in love with the world, and so disappointed in every aspect of it.

To me any given story has its appropriate form. There might be some story I get involved with that's begging to be a graphic novel, so that will have to be that way.

We have advantages. We have a cushion to fall back on. This is abundance. A luxury of place and time. Something rare and wonderful. It's almost historically unprecedented. We must do extraordinary things. We have to. It would be absurd not to.

What can one do with one's hands when the camera is interested in other things?

When we pass by another person without telling them we love them it?s cruel and wrong and we all know this.

You can't ever guess at life, at pain. All pain is real, and all pain is personal. It's the most personal thing we have. It eats each of us differently.

You?re like part human, part rainbow.

Think too much and you know you are nothing. Think just enough and you know you are small, but important to some. That's the best you can do.

To me, the print business model is so simple, where readers pay a dollar for all the content within, and that supports the enterprise. The web model is just so much more complicated, and involves this third party of advertisers, and all these other sources of revenue that are sort of provisional, but haven't been proven yet.

We have no choice. We need the communion of souls and only here are they awake.

What had been intriguing on Monday and Tuesday was approaching annoying by Wednesday and exasperating by Thursday.

When you're in your twenties in a new city where no one's from here, we're all sort of orphans. The only people that you can count on our bunch of people that you work with and that you know. You're only as good as the reliability of that latticework.

You don?t know what it?s like to be a man over thirty who?s never had anything happen to him. You spend so many years trying to stay safe, stay alive, to avoid some unknown horror. Then you realize the horror is existence itself. The nothing-happening.

You?re not seeing anything, saying anything. The weird paradox is that you think you?re at the center of things, and that makes your opinions more valuable, but you yourself are becoming less vibrant. I bet you haven?t done anything off-screen in months.

This book is a form of struggle, and it keeps my spirit alive to struggle.

To struggle is to strengthen my faith, my hope and my belief in humanity.

We identify our secrets, our pasts and their blotches, with our identity, that revealing our habits or losses or deeds somehow makes us one less of oneself. But it's just the opposite, more is more is more-- more bleeding, more giving. These things, details, stories, whatever are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs for anyone to see. What does he care where it is, who sees it, this snake, and his skin? He leaves it where it molts. Hours, days or months later, we come across a snake's long-shed skin and we know something of the snake, we know that it's of this approximate girth and that approximate length, but we know very little else. Do we know where the snake is now? What the snake is thinking now? No. By now the snake could be wearing fur; the snake could be selling pencils in Hanoi. The skinks no longer his, he wore it because it grew from him, but then it dried and slipped off and he and everyone could look at it.

What he had was a sense that few things mattered much. That few people are to be feared. And so he now faced all such situations with a sense of exhausted resolve, and he dealt with everything head-on.

Author Picture
First Name
Dave
Last Name
Eggers
Birth Date
1970
Bio

American Writer, Editor, Publisher, Novelist and Screenwriter, known for memoir "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius"