Herta MüllerHerta Müller (born 17 August 1953) is a Romanian-born German novelist, poet, essayist and recipient of the

2009 Nobel Prize in Literature. Born in Niţchidorf, Timiş County in Romania, her native language is German.

Since the early 1990s she has been internationally established, and her works have been translated into more

than 20 languages.

Quotes

The Appointment (1997)[

You go out for a walk and the world opens up for you. And before you’ve even stretched your legs

properly, it closes shut. For here to there it’s all just the farty sputter of lantern. And they call that having

lived. It’s not worth the bother of putting on your shoes.

Michael Hulse and Philip Boehm translation, Picador 2002, p. 80

The real secret is why love starts out with claws like a cat and then fades with time like a half-eaten

mouse.

Michael Hulse and Philip Boehm translation, Picador 2002, p. 81

World world sister world

When shall I tire of you.

When my bread is dry

When my hand forgets my glass

When the coffin’s boxed me in

Maybe that’s when I’ll be tired of you.

Living is despairing

And the dead they rot away

Michael Hulse and Philip Boehm translation, Picador 2002, p. 92

The Hunger Angel (2012)[

The war was still on in January 1945. In their dismay at my being shipped

off in the dead of winter to who knows where in Russia, everyone wanted

to give me something that might be of use, even if it couldn't be help.

Because nothing in the world could possible help.

p. 1

I simply wanted to go to a place that didn't know who I was.

p. 2

I have packed myself into silence so deeply and for so long that I can

never unpack myself using words. When I speak, I only pack myself a little

differently.

p. 3

I was my own thief, the words came out of nowhere and caught me.

p. 4

The world is not a costume ball,

p. 5

A lot of people think packing a suitcase is something you learn through

practice, like singing or praying.

p. 6

If you don't have the right things, you improvise. the wrong things become

necessary. Then the necessary things turn out to be the only right things,

simply because they're what you have.

p. 6

No novels, since you just read them once and never again.

p. 7

You can't rearrange freshly fallen snow, you can't fix snow so it looks

untouched. You can rework earth, and sand and even grass if you try hard

enough. Water takes care of itself, because it swallows everything and

flows back together once it's done swallowing. And air is always in place

because you can't see it. Everything but snow would have kept quiet.

p. 11

The time for eating otrach orach is over. But not the hunger, which is

always greater than we are.

p. 17

How can you face the world if all you can say about yourself is that you're

hungry. If you can't think of anything else.

p. 17–18

Perhaps we had to stand so long as to stop the time in motion. Our bones

became heavy as iron. When the flesh on your body disappears,your

bones become a burden, and the ground pulls you down.

p. 20

I don't know if I can't sleep because I am trying to recall the objects,

or whether I struggle to recall them because I can't sleep.

p. 26

Riding somewhere was always a happy thing. First of all: as long as you're

moving, you haven't arrived. As long as you haven't arrived, you don't

have to work. Riding in truck gives you time to recover. Second: when you

ride, you come to some place that couldn't care less about you. you can't

be yelled at or beaten by a tree. Under a tree, yes but the tree can't help

that.

p. 50

There (Kaschau) the mountains stare down through our heads until we

die.

p. 55

You can think all kinds of things. But you can't know for sure.

p. 61

There’s an unspoken law that you should never start to cry if you have too

many reasons to do so.

p. 68

Hunger devours nearly all the artistry.

p. 74

Hunger is not a bunker or a bed frame, otherwise it could be measured.

Hunger is not an object.

p. 81

Half starved humans are really neither masculine nor feminine but

genderless, like objects.

p. 149

Boredom is fear's patience. Fear doesn't want to exaggerate.

p. 198

Inside the camp the we-form is singular.

p. 251

Being a stranger is hard, but being a stranger when you're so impossibly

close is unbearable.

p. 261