emotional displacement Quotes

I miss my family, and I miss the New Jersey beaches. They have beaches here in L.A., but they aren't the same.

It is a special kind of homelessness to be evicted from your dreams.

I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.

The country in which I live is not my native country, that lies elsewhere, and it must always be the center of my longings.

A baby! I hated babies. I, who for two and a half years had been the center of a tender universe, felt the axis wrench and a polar chill immobilize my bones. I would be a bystander, a museum mammoth.

When fear displaces reason, the result is often irrational hatred and division.

There are so few stories being produced that are human. I suffer with the loss of that. I feel kind of out of place, even though I've continued to work.

I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart.

Not, not mine: it's somebody else's wound; I could never have borne it. So take the thing that happened, hide it, stick it in the ground; whisk the lamps away.

This is the thing they don't tell you about being a third wheel - it's not like you're the wheel that's added on. You were one of the original two wheels, but suddenly you're not so important anymore. The relationship drives fine without you.

At this moment, my soul is in Lebanon, my heart in Paris, and my body in New York.

When I was going away to school, I had a friend who took a liking to my family just a little too much. We couldn't get her out of the house. It took me saying to my parents, 'I don't want her here. I'm feeling replaced.'

My parents moved to the states when I was 6, so I was raised by my grandma in the Dominican Republic and didn't see them again until I was 10.

For one heat, all know, doth drive out another, One passion doth expel another still.

Do you ever want to go home?' I asked Paul. He brushed an ash from my face. 'It's the century of the displaced person,' he said. 'You can never go home.

I don't belong here. It doesn't matter, because even if I don't belong in this place, she's here and I want to be where she is.

His frustration running very high, he takes it out on the ones he loves because it's safe.

This way of leaving your family for work had condemned them over several generations to have their hearts always in other places, their minds thinking about people elsewhere; they could never be in a single existence at one time. How wonderful it was going to be to have things otherwise.

All human stories are migration stories because everyone is a refugee from their own childhood.

I have often noticed that after I had bestowed on the characters of my novels some treasured item of my past, it would pine away in the artificial world where I had so abruptly placed it.

I was sad to leave Europe in 1890, after my student days in Germany... But then, once back in New York, I experienced an intense longing for Europe, for its vital tradition of music, theatre, art, craftsmanship... I felt bewildered and lonely. How was I to use myself?

I experienced the discomfort of those who have moved mentally, but are still clamped, physically, to the places they have moved from.

If you're a victim, you're always mad, but never at yourself. You're mad at somebody else.

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.

People have an overbearing need to project their inward doubt and hatred and emotions onto the outside world.