If that child dreaming by the wireless had been asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, what I had become was more or less what he would have described, in however halting a fashion, I am sure of...
The dead are my dark matter, filling up impalpably the empty spaces of the world.
I marvelled, not for the first time, at the cruel complacency of ordinary things. But no, not cruel, not complacent, only indifferent, as how could they be otherwise? Henceforth, I would have to addre...
You know, artists don't really have all that much experience of life. We make a huge amount out of the small experience that we do have.
You will remember this when all else fades, this moment, here, together, by this well. There will be certain days, and certain nights, you’ll feel my presence near you, hear my voice. You’ll think you...
But then, at what moment, of all our moments, is life not utterly, utterly changed, until the final, most momentous change of all? We
The steel kettle shone, a slow furl of steam at its spout, vaguely suggestive of genie and lamp. Oh, grant me a wish, just the one.
None of this means anything. Anything of significance, that is. I am just amusing myself, musing, losing myself in a welter of words. For words in here are a form of luxury, of sensuousness, they are...
Lots of water under that bridge, let’s not drown ourselves in it.
Life, authentic life, is supposed to be all struggle, unflagging action and affirmation, but when I look back I see that the greater part of my energies was always given over to the simple search for...
What I was afraid of was my own grief, the weight of it, the ineluctable corrosive force of it, and the stark awareness I had of being, for the first time in my life, entirely alone, a Crusoe shipwrec...
What age is she now, twenty something. I’m not sure. She is very bright, quite the bluestocking. Not beautiful, however, I admitted that to myself long ago. I cannot pretend this is not a disappointme...
Pomieszczenie wyglądało tak, jak je zapamiętałem. Albo wyglądało, jak gdyby było takie, jakim je zapamiętałem, gdyż z reguły wspomnienia dopasowują się niezauważalnie do rzeczy i miejsc z odwiedzanej...
Pacjent - powiedziała mi pewnego dnia Anna, już blisko końca - to dziwne słowo. Cierpliwy. A ja wcale nie jestem cierpliwa.
¿Qué tienen esos momentos intemporales que luego siempre se recuerdan con una dulce melancolía? A veces me parece que es en esos intervalos de vacío, sin que fuera consciente de ello, cuando he vivido...
We imagine that we remember things as they were, while in fact all we carry into the future are fragments which reconstruct a wholly illusory past. That first death we witness will always be a murmur...
The past beats inside me like a second heart.
Tal vez el amor no nace ahí, no en un repentino arrebato de passion, sino en el reconocimiento y la sencilla aceptación de, de algo que no sé qué es
… a thief’s heart is an impetuous organ, and while inwardly he throbs for absolution, at the same time he can’t keep from bragging.
I guard my memories of my lost one jealously, keep them securely under wraps, like a folio of delicate watercolours that must be protected from the harsh light of day.