Without where I am from and who I am from, I am nothing, even if the glass is gone and conifers are growing through where the roof should be. All those wide-worlders in transit, all those misplaced, t...
Un sueño a pleno día. Jamás escribiré nada que valga la centésima parte. Ojalá pecase de inmodesto, pero no es el caso. El sexteto del Atlas de las nubes engloba mi vida, es mi vida, ahora soy un cohe...
Uncle Norm says, ‘Pity is a form of abuse.
Uncle Tarmac says vehicles always resemble their owners, and likes advising my female cousins to judge whether boyfriends will make decent husbands or not by observing how they treat or mistreat their...
Unglückswurm Olly ist also ein Hörspiel auf Radio 4. Und was bin ich? - Du, Hugo, sie küsst mich aufs Ohrläppchen, bist ein schmutziger französischer Low-Budget-Film, auf den man nachts zufällig im Fe...
Unglückswurm Olly ist also ein Hörspiel auf Radio 4. Und was bin ich? - Du, Hugo, sie küsste mich aufs Ohrläppchen, bist ein schmutziger französischer Low-Budget-Film., Einer, auf den man nachts zufäl...
Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty.
Unmix that conditional and smoke it.
Up the hill, sheep bleat, oblivious to human empires rising and falling.
Us elderly are the modern lepers.
Us f’gotten slaves was bein’ drained by hunger’n’pain an’ the mozzies from the slopin’ pond now an’ we was envyin’ that Hawi boy diresome, till at a nod from Lyons they ripped down Elfy’s pants an’ he...
Uzaemon is no longer surprised by Shuzai's perspicacity. I don't know if I have the right to involve you.To a believer in Fate, replies Shuzai, it's not you who is involving me.
Valleysmen’d not want to hear, she answered, that human hunger birthed the Civ’lize, but human hunger killed it too. I know it from other tribes offland what I stayed with. Times are you say a person’...
Venga, hombre, ¿qué es un crítico? Un individuo que lee deprisa y corriendo, de manera arrogante pero nunca prudente.
War may be an auction for countries. For soldiers it's a lottery.
Writing is such a damn lonely sickness.
Wars are never cured, they just go into remission for a few years. The End is what we want, so I'm afraid the End is what we're damn well going to get.
Wars are never cured, they just go into remission for a few years.
Wars do not combust without warning. They begin as little fires over the horizon. Wars approach. A wise man watches for the smoke, and prepares to vacate the neighborhood just like Ayrs and Jocasta. M...
Was there anything under those lids? Remorse, resentment, even indifference? Or was there only nothing? Nothing often poses in men as wisdom.
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