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Sometimes I Get The Start Of A Story From A Memory, An Anecdote, But That Gets Lost And Is Usually Unrecognizable In The Final Story.
-Alice Munro
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Sometimes I Get The

Alice Munro
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Sometimes I Get The Start Of A Story From A Memory, An Anecdote, But That Gets Lost And Is Usually Unrecognizable In The Final Story.

Understanding the Quote: "sometimes i get the start of a story from a memory, an..."

This quote by Alice Munro reflects deeply on the theme of memories. It connects to the universal human journey of purpose, motivation, and reflection. Often categorized under Memories, Writing, Anecdotes, the quote offers insight, emotional clarity, and intellectual inspiration to readers worldwide.

Whether you’re a student exploring new ideas, a leader trying to motivate your team, or someone seeking direction in life — this quote provides value. It resonates because it’s more than words — it’s a bridge between experience and wisdom. It shows how Alice Munro interprets life's core challenges and triumphs.

Lessons From the Quote

This quote teaches resilience and focus. It reminds readers that no matter where they stand in life, reflection and self-awareness lead to growth. Each word has meaning, and when studied, it becomes clear how impactful thoughtful language can be.

About Alice Munro

Alice Munro is celebrated for insightful thoughts on memories and writing. Their legacy lives on through writings that guide, comfort, and inspire. Discover more on their profile page.

Actionable Takeaways

  • Reflect on how this quote applies to your current life path.
  • Share the message with someone who needs inspiration.
  • Write your thoughts on this quote in a journal or blog post.
  • Use it as a daily affirmation or reminder.

Closing Thoughts

Quotes like this endure because they capture universal truths. They comfort us in solitude and empower us in groups. Carry this quote forward — live by its wisdom, share its message, and keep its essence alive.

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Topic
Memories
Writing
Anecdotes
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I Knew I Would Be Famous One Day. That's Because I Lived In A Very Small Town And Nobody Liked Doing The Same Things I Did, Like Writing.
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What She Felt Was A Lighthearted Sort Of Compassion, Almost Like Laughter. A Swish Of Tender Hilarity, Getting The Better Of All Her Sores And Hollows, For The Time Given.
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Children Of Course Are Monstrously Conventional, Repelled At Once By Whatever Is Off-center, Out Of Whack, Unmanageable. And Being An Only Child I Had Been Coddled A Good Deal (also Scolded). I Was Awkward, Precocious, Timid, Full Of My Private Rituals And Aversions.
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I Saw How The Forms Of Love Might Be Maintained With A Condemned Person But With The Love In Fact Measured And Disciplined, Because You Have To Survive. It Could Be Done So Discreetly That The Object Of Such Care Would Not Suspect, Any More Than She Would Suspect The Sentence Of Death Itself.
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I Just Believed It Easily, The Way You Might Believe And In Fact Remember That You Once Had Another Set Of Teeth, Now Vanished But Real In Spite Of That. Until One Day, One Day When I May Even Have Been In My Teens, I Knew With A Dim Sort Of Hole In My Insides That Now I Didn't Believe It Anymore.
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I Used To Feel For Years And Years And Years That I Was Very Remiss Not To Have Written A Novel And I Would Question People Who Wrote Novels And Try To Find Out How They Did It And How They Had Got Past Page 30. Then, With The Approach Of Old Age, I Began To Just Think: “well, Lucky I Can Do Anything At All.
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If I Decided To Send This To You, Where Would I Send It? When I Think Of Writing The Whole Address On The Envelope I Am Paralyzed. It's Too Painful To Think Of You In The Same Place With Your Life Going On In The Same Way, Minus Me. And To Think Of You Not There, You Somewhere Else But I Don't Know Where That Is, Is Worse.
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I Sit Watching The Brown Oceanic Waves Of Dry Country Rising Into The Foothills And I Weep Monotonously, Seasickly. Life Is Not Like The Dim Ironic Stories I Like To Read, It Is Like A Daytime Serial On Television. The Banality Will Make You Weep As Much As Anything Else.
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His Face Contained For Me All Possibilities Of Fierceness And Sweetness, Pride And Submissiveness, Violence, Self-containment. I Never Saw More In It Than I Had When I Saw It First, Because I Saw Everything Then. The Whole Thing In Him That I Was Going To Love, And Never Catch Or Explain.
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Smell
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Hair
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Letting Go
Grief
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Hate
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Hatred
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Achievement
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