And this is either a completely disastrous question or the most sensible one I’ve ever asked in all my life.
And the nights, bigger than imagining: black and gusty and enormous, disordered and wild with stars.
And the . Bit of a social failure. Well, that’s putting it delicately. Quite overweight. Collects the cats, if you know what I mean.
And beauty is terror,' said Julian, 'then what is desire? We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it?''To live,' said Camilla.'To live forever,' said Bunny, chin cupped in...
A teahouse amid the cherry blossoms, on the way to death. p136
...life - whatever else it is - is short... maybe even if we're not always so glad to be here, it's our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while ke...
Wheels caught and I was flung into ordinary
Then realized she wasn’t there. Or—she was there and she wasn’t. Part of her was there, but it was invisible. The invisible part was the important part. This was something I had never understood befor...
The suddenness of the explosion had never left me, I was always looking for something to happen, always expecting it just out of the corner of my eye, certain configurations of people in public places...
The atmosphere it breathed was like the light-rinsed airiness of a wall opposite an open window.
Sometimes you have to lose to win.
Small, everyday things can lift us out of despair. But nobody can do it for you. You’re the one who has to watch for the open door.
If you didn’t take picture from museum, and Sascha didn’t steal it back, and I didn’t think of claiming reward—well, wouldn’t all those dozens of other paintings remain missing too? Forever maybe? Wra...
Had I stayed in California I might have ended up in a cult or at the very least practicing some weird dietary restriction.
Good-natured groom on
Arid room—all
Afterlife, the space between earth and not-earth, world and not-world, highly polished floors and glass-roof cathedral echoes and the whole anonymous
You see one painting, I see another, the art book puts it at another remove still, the lady buying the greeting card at the museum gift shop sees something else entire, and that’s not even to mention...
Whatever else one may say about guilt, it certainly lends one diabolical powers of invention;
Well—let’s put it another way. Who was it said that coincidence was just God’s way of remaining anonymous?