Snowing in Dubai! A miracle, Potter! Look! That’s Dublin you ass. Not Dubai. Valí otsyúda! Fuck off!
She was the golden thread running through everything, a lens that magnified beauty so that the whole world stood transfigured in relation to her, and her alone.
Pragmatists are often strangely superstitious.
Picasso says. ‘Bad artists copy, good artists steal.
Over and over I played her favorite Arvo Pärt, as a way of being with her; and she had only to mention recently read novel for me to grab it up hungrily, to be inside her thoughts, a sort of telepathy
Or--to quote another paradoxical gem of my dad's: sometimes you have to lose to win.
One's thought patterns become different, he said, when forced into the confines of a rigid and unfamiliar tongue. Certain common ideas become inexpressible; other, previously undreamt-of ones spring t...
One likes to think there's something in it, that old platitude amor vincit omnia. But if I've learned one thing in my short sad life, it is that that particular platitude is a lie. Love doesn't conque...
On game day, until five o'clock or so, the white desert light held off the essential Sunday gloom—autumn sinking into winter, loneliness of October dusk with school the next day—but there was always a...
Old age, sickness, death. No escape for anyone. Even the beautiful ones were like soft fruit about to spoil. And yet somehow people still kept fucking and breeding and popping out new fodder for the g...
ONE SUNDAY MORNING, I climbed up to the light from a weighty and complicated dream, nothing of it left but a ringing in my ears and the ache of something slipped from my grasp and fallen into a crevas...
Nunca he trazado una línea tan firme entre el «bien» y el «mal». Para mí esa línea a menudo es falsa. Nunca están tan desconectados el uno del otro. No pueden existir por su cuenta. Mientras actúe gui...
Never do what you can’t undo.
My hopes for a relationship with her were wholly unreal, whereas my ongoing misery, and frustration, were an all-too-horrible reality. Was groundless, hopeless romantic obsession any way to waste the...
My grandest boyhood ambition was to be a professor of history at Notre Dame. Although what I do now is just a different way of working with history, I suppose.) He told me about his blind-in-one-eye c...
Most of the benches bore the names of benefactors—in memory of Mrs. Ruth Klein or whatever—but my mother’s bench, the Rendezvous Point, alone of all the benches in that part of the park had been given...
Mis sueños nunca llegaban a ser pesadillas en toda regla sino solo interludios perturbados en los que mi madre se quedaba trabajando hasta tarde y no encontraba ningún medio de transporte para volver...
Ma dopotutto non è sempre l’elemento fuori posto, quello che non funziona alla perfezione, che stranamente finiamo per amare di più?
Let’s both be good, and truthful, and kind to each other, and let’s be happy together and have fun always.
It’s a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we shiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own...