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"It is one of the peculiarities of the imagination that it is always at the end of an era. What happens is that it is always attaching itself to a new reality, and adhering to it. It is not that there is a new imagination but that there is a new reality."
- Wallace Stevens, “The Noble Rider and the Sound of Words”(Source: leopoldgursky)
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High Resolution -
"The city was teaching him a lesson. There was to be no escape from intrusion, from noise. He had crossed the ocean to separate his life from life. He had come in search of silence and found a loudness greater than the one he left behind. The noise was inside him now."
- Salman Rushdie, Fury -
"When I touch her, my fingers don’t question what she is. My body knows who she is. The strange thing about strangers is that they are unknown and known. There is a pattern to her, a shape I understand, a private geometry that numbers mine. She is a maze where I got lost years ago, and now find the way out. She is the missing map. She is the place that I am. She is a stranger. She is the strange that I am beginning to love."
- Jeanette Winterson, The Stone Gods(Source: quote-book)
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“This week I’ve been reading a lot and doing little work. That’s the way things ought to be. That’s surely the road to success.” — Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl
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reading this! enjoying this!
The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
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High Resolution -
High Resolution“Some people—and I am one of them—hate happy ends. We feel cheated. Harm is the norm. Doom should not jam. The avalanche stopping in its tracks a few feet above the cowering village behaves not only unnaturally but unethically.”
Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin.
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High Resolution -
"And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I’ve never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on."
- Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451(Source: pavorst, via footnoteswithinfootnotes)
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"So be it; I shall die in the starlight."
- Victor Hugo, Les Misérables(Source: thethingswhichwilldestroyme)
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"When I write (of course, I may not be a fair example, but merely an awful warning), I try to forget all about myself. I forget about my personal circumstances. I do not try, as I tried once, to be a “South American writer.” I merely try to convey what the dream is. And if the dream be a dim one (in my case, it usually is), I do not try to beautify it, or even to understand it."
- Jorge Luis Borges, This Craft of Verse(Source: litverve)
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"It is estimated that, at this moment, our universe contains a grand total of ten planets capable of supporting life. How the other nine have resolved the problem is not a question we care to address."
- Miles Klee, “The Other Nine” from Five Miniatures - The Collagist - Dzanc Books(via housingworksbookstore)
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"He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others—the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad. "
- Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated(Source: pavorst, via princessnymeria)
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"…I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling."
- Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart(Source: dailystendhalnitesaudade, via leopoldgursky)
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