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Book: Homo Faber
Quotes of Book: Homo Faber

Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
We talked about constellations-the usual thing, when two people haven't yet discovered which one knows less about the stars than the other; the rest is romantic fantasy, which I can't bear.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
In Florence I rebelled and told her that frankly I thought her Fra Angelico rather mawkish. Then I corrected myself and said "naive." She didn't deny it, on the contrary, she was delighted; it couldn't be naïve enough for her. What I enjoyed was campari!
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
Boys!" she said. "You can't imagine what they're like-they think you're their mother, and that's frightful!
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
Why should I be melancholy? England wasn't in sight yet.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
Children are something we want or don't want.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
How many children are really wanted? The fact that the woman would rather have it once it's there is a different matter, an automatic reaction of the instincts, she forgets she tried to avoid it and added to this is the feeling of power over the man, motherhood as an economic weapon in the hands of the woman.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
My work?" she said. "You can see for yourself, patching up fragments. That is supposed to have been a vase. From Crete. I stick the past together.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
My life was in her hands .
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
the Indians were far too gentle, too peaceable, positively childlike. They squatted for whole evenings in their white straw hats on the earth, motionless as toadstools, content without light, silent. The sun and moon were enough light for them, an effeminate race, eerie but innocuous.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
Ivy was a model, she chose her clothes to match the color of the car, I think, and the color of the car to match her lipstick or the other way around, I'm not sure which it was.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
The ladies' mauve-dyed hair interspersed with the bald patches of the gentlemen, who had taken off their panama hats-they must have broken out of an old-age home, I thought, but I didn't say it.
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Max Frisch _ Homo Faber
They were obviously Americans, I could hear their voices as the party wandered around our tomb; to judge by the voices, they might have been stenographers from Cleveland. "Oh, isn't it lovely?" "Oh, is this the Campagna?" "Oh, how lovely it is here!
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