Best 142 quotes of Fredrik Backman on MyQuotes

A boy who cares too little about the future and frets too much about the past: nothing could depress a mother more.

All marriages have their bad sides, because people have weaknesses. If you live with another human being you learn to handle these weaknesses in a variety of ways. For instance, you might take the view that weaknesses are a bit like heavy pieces of furniture, and based on this you must learn to clean around them. To maintain the illusion.

All people at root are time optimists. We always think there's enough time to do things with other people. Time to say things to them. And then something happens and then we stand there holding on to words like 'if'.

All people want to live dignified live; dignity just means something different to different people.

Amat, Lifa, and Zaccharias were the sort of children who got passed over. They've stuck together ever since. Lifa is less talkative than a tree, Zacharias louder than a radio, and Amat just appreciates the company. They make a good team.

Ana was a tornado. A jagged, hundred-sided peg in a community where everyone was supposed to fit into round holes.

And I don’t think you need to be scared of forgetting me,” the boy says “No?” “No. Because if you forget me then you’ll just get the chance to get to know me again. And you’ll like that, because I’m actually a pretty cool person to get to know.

And in an apartment on the other side of town, everyone wakes up with a start when the hound in the first-floor flat, without any warning, starts howling. Louder and more heartrendingly than anything they have ever heard coming out of the primal depths of any animal. As if it is singing with the sorrow and yearning of an eternity of ten thousand fairy tales. It howls for hours, all through the night, until dawn. And when the morning light seeps into the hospital room, Elsa wakes up in Granny's arms. But Granny is still in Miamas.

And now she stood outside the station with his flowers pressed happily to her breast, in all that red cardigan of hers, making the rest of the world look as if it was made in greyscale.

And then it goes as with all anger attacks. They don’t just consist of one anger, but of many. A long series of angers, flung into a volcano in one’s breast until it erupts.

And then Mum spoons the coffee a little as if she’s having fantasies of flinging it in Britt-Marie’s face. But in a controlled way.

And they both stand there,... a few metres apart, kicking at the snow. As if they were kicking a memory back and forth, a memory of a woman who insisted on seeing more potential in certain men than they saw in themselves.

Anita is small and colourless in her grey trousers, grey knitted cardigan, grey hair and grey skin. But ove notices that her face is slightly red-eyed and swollen. Quickly she wipes her eyes and blinks away the pain. As women of that generation do. As if they stood in the doorway every morning, determinedly driving sorrow out of the house with a broom.

...a poco a poco altri bambini diversi iniziano a fare compagnia a Elsa e Alex, finchè sono così in tanti...finchè diventano un esercito. Perchè se sono in tanti a essere diversi, allora nessuno è normale

Around them, the dawn gently wakes Borg like someone breathing into the ear of someone they love. With sun and promises. Tickling light falls over warm duvets, like the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread. It shouldn't be doing this. It's the wrong day to be beautiful, but the dawn doesn't care.

Așa că asta face. Zi de zi. Vis cu vis, Și unul poate zice că face bine, iar altul că greșește. Și au, cu siguranță, amândoi dreptate. Căci viața e complicată și simplă în același timp.

At a certain age almost all questions a person asks himself are about one thing: how should you live your life?

At a certain age almost all the questions a person asks him or herself are really just about one thing: how should you live your life?

A time like that comes for every man, when he choses what sort of man he wants to be. And if you don't know the story, you don't know the man.

A year ago she sprained her ankle on a field trip and he had to carry her from the car to the house again. He has never felt more like a bad parent that when he admitted to himself that he wished she could sprain her ankle more often.

Because a time comes in every man's life when he decides what sort of man he's going to be: the kind who lets other people walk all over him, or not.

Because if we don't forgive those we love, then what is left? What is love if it's not loving our lovers even when they don't deserve it?

Because improbable tragedies create improbable superheroes.

Because when you love someone very much, it's difficult to learn to share her with someone else.

Being a good parent is hard. There's a lot of trial and error. In my case, quite a lot of the latter. ... And one thing you're never lacking once you become a parent is people criticizing you. Because children aren't just children these days, you know, you're identity markers. No one knows quite how that happened. Ten thousand year of sexual experience, and suddenly my generation decides that we're going to carry you out of the maternity ward as though you were the Champions League Cup. As though we were the first people in the history of the world who figured out how reproduction works. We don't even need to be 'good' parents any more, I think. That's passed now. We make do with 'not horible' by this point. ... And of the few ways we can convince ourselves that we're actually decent as parents is by making other people seem like bad parents. And we can be pretty damn creative when it comes down to it. If it isn't the food or the toys or the fact that the child sometimes has to stay at nursery until quarter past three in the afternoon then it's the non-organic plastic in whatever the hell piece of furniture that hasn't been given some certificate by some department in Brussels. 'Oh? YOu let your child play with THAT? Ah, well, me personally, I would rather my child didn't get brain cancer ... but it's nice that everyone can raise their children in their own way, isn't it?' That's how we bring each other down.

Britt-Marie moves out of the way as if the ball was trying to spit at her.

But children are the only people who don't have to take responsibility for anyone but themselves. The rest of us have to take responsibility for the things we cause to happen. You're a leader. People follow you. So frankly, if you can't take responsibility for the actions of your followers, that makes you nothing but a monster.

But she's going to see the world and she's going to feel the wind in her hair. And she's going to solve all her crosswords in ink.

Căci nu toți monștri sunt monștri de la bun început-unii sunt monștri din tristețe.

Când e vorba de frică, puterea imaginației e stăpână.

Children need the lie to be brave enough to sleep in their beds; parents need it to be able to get up the next morning.

[...] culture is as much about what we encourage as what we actually permit.

David thought about that [Values] for a long while before asking: "What about culture, then?" Sune looked more serious, choosing his words carefully. In the end he said: "For me, culture is as much about what we encourage as what we actually permit." David asked what he meant by that, and Sune replied: "That most people don't do what we tell them to. They do what we let them get away with.

Det är en omöjlig sak för söner att förstå, och en skam för pappor att erkänna: att vi egentligen inte vill att våra barn vare sig ska följa sina drömmer eller gå i våra fotspår. Vi vill gå i deras fotspår, när de följer våra drömmar.

Don't people get married because they're full of love and then divorced when they run out of it?" (Elsa) "Did you learn that one in school?" (Mom) "It's my own theory." (Elsa)

Elsa decides that even if people she likes have been shits on earlier occasions, she has to learn to carry on liking them. You’d quickly run out of people if you had to disqualify all those who at some point have been shits.

Even if Kevin is no longer in Beartown, they still have to reclaim the things he stole. Twilight. Solitude. The courage to wear earbuds when it's dark, the freedom to not look over your shoulder the whole time.

Everything is complicated if no one explains it to you.

Everything seems obvious in hindsight!

För när man är med henne är det alltid söndag morgon. Och det enda jag är bättre än henne på är att jag klarar sömnbrist bättre än hon gör. Förstår du? Jag parkerar på fel parkeringsplats när jag är trött, men hon kör till fel jobb när hon är det. När jag har haft en jobbig natt hittar hon osten i frysen, när hon har haft en jobbig natt hittar jag kylskåpet i källarförrådet. Hon är bättre på precis allt annat, men när du var nyfödd märkte vi att det här var en sån sak som jag var mer funktionell med än hon. Den enda saken. Så vi måste ge henne det, du och jag. Av alla saker som hon gör för oss varje dag så måste vi ge henne det här. Vi måste låta henne sova inatt så att hon kan vara alla våra söndagsmorgnar när hon vaknar.

George diceva che se il tempo fosse stato un dio la nonna sarebbe stata atea, perché l’unica religione che praticava era il procrastinantesimo.

God created people, alright? Even if you don’t believe in God, just assume that God created people. Alright. And then the people created a bunch of stuff. Mostly, the stuff was crap. And God was all like, “Wait, what are you doing with all that crap?” And the people immediately got all defensive, like “What? Nothing. It’s our stuff. Why do you care?” And God was trying to be diplomatic and pointed and said, “Alright, but where are you going with that thing? It doesn’t look safe.” And the people rolled their eyes and said, “We’re going out. Who are you, the cops?” And God was all, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but are you really? That doesn’t look like such a good idea.” And the people were all, “Stop being so overprotective, we’re not children. You created us like fifteen minutes ago.” And God was all, “Fine. Fine. Alright. Alright.” And then the people took all their stuff, mostly crap into the world. And the world, a lot of bad stuff happened to it to be honest. And then God mumbled, “Told you.” But did the people then stop and say, “Oops. Our bad.” No. The people immediately turned to God and looked incredibly upset and cried, “Why didn’t you stop us? You could have stopped us. Now this is your fault!” Get it? Because that’s our nature, us humans.

Grateful, grateful, grateful. That’s the role of mothers. But the role of children is to dream.

Grow up and be different and don’t let anyone tell you not to be different, because all superheroes are different.

Han var en man av svart och vitt. Och hon var färg. All hans färg

Hate can be a deeply stimulating emotion. The world becomes easier to understand and much less terrifying if you divide everything and everyone into friends and enemies, we and they, good and evil. The easiest way to unite a group isn't through love, because love is hard, It makes demands. Hate is simple. So the first thing that happens in a conflict is that we choose a side, because that's easier than trying to hold two thoughts in our heads at the same time. The second thing that happens is that we seek out facts that confirm what we want to believe - comforting facts, ones that permit life to go on as normal. The third is that we dehumanize our enemy.

Hat kan vara en djupt stimulerande känsla. Världen blir både lättare att förstå och mindre skräckinjagande om man delar upp allt i vänner och fiender, vi och de andra, goda och onda. Det lättaste sättet att ena en grupp är inte kärlek, för kärlek är svårt, den ställer krav. Hat är enkelt.

Having a grandmother is like having an army. This is a grandchild's ultimate privilege: knowing that someone is on your side, always, whatever the details. Even when you are wrong. Especially then, in fact. A grandmother is both a sword and a shield.

He had never heard anything quite as amazing as that voice. She talked as if she was continuously on the verge of breaking into giggles. And when she giggled she sounded the way Ove imagined champagne bubbles would have sounded if they were capable of laughter.

He is wearing a rugby shirt with numbers and a little man on a horse on his chest. Kent has told Elsa that this sort of shirt costs more than a thousand kronor, and Granny always used to say that those sorts of shirts were a good thing, because the horse functioned as a sort of manufacturer’s warning that the shirt was highly likely to be transporting a muppet.