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Sijie Dai Quotes

I was carried away, swept along by the mighty stream of words pouring from the hundreds of pages. To me it was the ultimate book: once you had read it, neither your own life nor the world you lived in would ever look

I was carried away, swept along by the mighty stream of words pouring from the hundreds of pages. To me it was the ultimate book: once you had read it, neither your own life nor the world you lived in would ever look the same.

Book, Looks, Pouring

Calligraphy may well be simply an artistic version of another form, that is the ideograms which make up the poem, but then not only does it reflect the character and temperament of the artist but . . . also betrays his heart rate, his breathing.

Heart, Character, Artist

Dai Sijie (2009). “Once on a Moonless Night”, p.17, Random House

Our imagination is dictated by who we are. (198)

Imagination, Who We Are

A woman's beauty is a treasure beyond price.

Women's Beauty, Treasure

Sijie Dai (2002). “Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress”, Anchor

It would evidently take more than a political regime, more than dire poverty to stop a woman from wanting to be well-dressed: it was a desire as old as the world, as old as the desire for children.

Children, Political, Desire

Sijie Dai (2002). “Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress”, Anchor

In the end we had changed the position of the hands so many times that we had no idea what the time really was.

Hands, Ideas, Ends

Sijie Dai (2002). “Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress”, Anchor

In Chinese love stories the one who loves always starts by borrowing a book from the beloved.

Book, Chinese, Stories

Dai Sijie (2009). “Once on a Moonless Night”, p.59, Random House

Without him (Jean-Christophe) I would never have understood the splendour of taking free andindependent action as an individual. Up until this stolen encounter with brains had been incapable of graspingthe notion of one man standing up against the whole world...................To me it was the ultimate book: once youhad read it, neither your own life nor the world you lived in would ever look the same.

Book, Men, Brain

A name with a gently exotic ring to it, like birdsong, like a grain of sand in the far-off Gobi Desert or the northern steppes, whipped up by the wind, carried by storms, swirling through the sky, travelling, crossing whole countries without knowing quite how, and ending up in the crook of my ear.

Country, Wind, Sky

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