116
" I suspect that God is what you do, not what or who you believe in.
But people do shit things all the time, I said. There’s something wrong with us.
Perhaps. And maybe not. But when you do right, Jaxie, when you make good — well, then you are an instrument of God. Then you are joined to the divine, to the life-force, to life itself. That’s what I believe. That’s what I hope for. And it’s what I have missed.
That’s all jumblyfuck to me, I said as decent as I could.
Well, think of it this way, he said, pushing his specs back up his nose. When somebody does me a kindness, it enlarges me, adds to my life, you see? And not only mine — it adds to all life. Which is why I wanted to thank you. For coming here.
Me?
Fintan gave a sad little laugh. And I caught him looking at me goony as an emu.
What? I said.
Don’t you understand me, boy? Can’t you see it? Jaxie Clackton, you are an instrument of God. "
― Tim Winton , The Shepherd's Hut
118
" Writing a book is a bit like surfing," he said. "Most of the time you're waiting. And it's quite pleasant, sitting in the water waiting. But you are expecting that the result of a storm over the horizon, in another time zone, usually, days old, will radiate out in the form of waves. And eventually, when they show up, you turn around and ride that energy to the shore. It's a lovely thing, feeling that momentum. If you're lucky, it's also about grace. As a writer, you roll up to the desk every day, and then you sit there, waiting, in the hope that something will come over the horizon. And then you turn around and ride it, in the form of a story. "
― Tim Winton
120
" That was the simple objective, being airborne, up longer, up higher, more casually & with more fuck off elegance than anyone else in the world. I never understood the rules or the science of it but I recognized the single-mindedness it took to match risk with nerve come what may. Some endeavours require a kind of egotism, a near autistic narrowness. Everything conspires against you – the habits of physics, the impulse to flee - & you’re weighed down by every dollop of commonsense dished up. Everyone will tell you your goal is impossible, pointless, stupid, wasteful so you hang tough. You back yourself & only yourself. This idiot resolve is all you have. "
― Tim Winton , Breath