A Quote by George Saunders

It's a little like packing for a trip. First you lay out everything that might possibly be useful, with no thought about the size of your suitcase. Then, look at your suitcase. In the case of narrative, there's a certain obligation to keep the pace up and have each section or subsection be doing something.
If I'm going away for longer than a week I take a suitcase and check it in but I'm good at packing light and quick - years of modelling, travelling and living out of a suitcase has trained me well.
You're going to pee in someone's suitcase?" "Do you have any other ideas?" And suddenly Miracolina begins to snicker, then giggle, then giggle, then cackle uncontrollably. "He's going to pee in someone's suitcase!" "Quiet! Do you want people on the bus to hear you?" But Miracolina is beyond help. She's entered into a fullfledged laughter fit-the kind that leaves your stomach hurting. "They're gonna open their suitcase," she blurts between bursts of glee, "And their clothes’ll be full of pee!
I get ideas about what's essential when packing my suitcase.
To me, the most worrisome part of traveling comes before any of the traveling actually occurs: the suitcase-packing process. It's a challenging and anxiety-filled process - I am caught between wanting my suitcase to be light and worrying I am going to need every single item in my bedroom.
Sometimes I have a nervous breakdown over my suitcase - over socks - because your brain just goes, 'I just can't pack again. I can't.' You're looking at your suitcase going, 'I'm in five countries in two weeks, and it's four different seasons.' That's when my brain melts.
Let's say you have to catch a plane, and you are packing your suitcase and moving fast. Most people would call that stress. Most people live stressed like that all the time.
The worst gift that I ever gave a girl was a suitcase for Christmas. As in, 'I can't think of anything to give you, but here's a new suitcase.' Afterward, I was like, 'What were you thinking, idiot?'
The tempo is the suitcase. If the suitcase is too small, everything is completely wrinkled. If the tempo is too fast, everything becomes so scrambled you can't understand it.
Your face looked like something Death brought with him in his suitcase.
I've never really considered packing my suitcase and heading to Hollywood.
I’ve always wanted to tackle the casual part of dressing. Knits to me are always just easy. I’ve fantasized about packing a suitcase of only knits: You just throw them in, roll them in a ball, pull them out and they still look fabulous.
The obsessive documentation is itself adjacent to hyper-consumption in our society. The desire to just have everything all the time and adjacent to that is - it might be a little hokey but - a certain loss of identity that then only gets sort of found or ascribed to these moments that are documented. If so much of your experience is devoted to the thought of documentation, you're already sort of spinning out this narrative from this moment that you are attempting to control instead of just experiencing it.
To really love Joan Didion—to have been blown over by things like the smell of jasmine and the packing list she kept by her suitcase—you have to be female.
That one [in "2012"] was different because it was all CG, getting washed away by water. In "Independence Day," everything was still done in models, built in a certain scale out of plaster, and packing tons and tons of little explosives and charges in there. We had a second one in case it didn't work the first time, but it worked the first time.
When someone's been gone a long time, at first you save up all the things you want to tell them. You try to keep track of everything in your head. But it's like trying to hold on to a fistful of sand: all the little bits slip out of your hands, and then you're just clutching air and grit.
Everything important that I have done can be put into a little suitcase.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!