What do you hope?Desire is a dowsed fireTrue love a lieTo a dusty shelf we aspire,I crave to die
Narrative is one of the best intoxicants or tranquilisers.
You asked, why are the poor poor. I was struck by that.What I can’t see—what I really can’t see—is why everyone doesn’t ask themselves that, all the time . How can these people bear to go to church an...
The hands were ivory-coloured, the skin finely wrinkled everywhere, like the crust on a pool of wax, and under it appreared livid bruises, arthritic nodes, irregular tea-brown stains. ...The flesh und...
No man has a right to dictate another man's inner life - the furniture inside his skull.
It is possible for a writer to make, or remake at least, for a reader, the primary pleasures of eating, or drinking, or looking on, or sex. Novels have their obligatory tour-de-force, the green-flecke...
To a dusty shelf we aspire.
Imagining the end of things, when you are a child, is perhaps impossible. The thin child, despite the war that was raging, was more afraid of eternal boredom, of doing nothing that mattered, of day af...
What I speak of is the real decision as we experience it; and here the movement away from theory and generality is the movement towards truth. All theorizing is flight. We must be ruled by the situati...
Metamorphoses he said, are our way of showing, in riddles, that we know we are part of the animal world
Ze probeerde zich zondig te voelen. Maar haar geest wendde zich af, naar waar hij levend was.
This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now,...
There was a moment during this time, when his face was on hers, cheek on cheek, brow on brow, heavy skull on skull, through soft skin and softer flesh. He thought: skulls separate people. In this one...
On the other side of attraction, is repulsion.
It is as though our dreams were watching us and directing our lives with external vigour whilst we simply enact their pleasures passively, in a swoon.
He made the analogy, sometimes, almost bitterly, between Harald’s collection of wing-cases and empty ribcages, elephant’s feet and Paradise plumes, and Harald’s interminably circular book on Design, w...
In almost all stories of promises and prohibitions, the promises and prohibitions carry with them the inevitability of failure, of their own breaking.
It is in the nature of the human frame to tire. Fortunately. Let us collude with necessity. Let us play with it.
Ice burns, and it is hard to the warm-skinned to distinguish onesensation, fire, from the other, frost.
I hit on something I believe when I wrote that I meant to be a Poet and a Poem. It may be that this is the desire of all reading women, as opposed to reading men, who wish to be poets and heroes, but...
