Hate suits him better than forgiveness. Immersed in hate, he doesn't have to do anything; he can be paralyzed, and the rigidty of hatred makes a kind of shelter for him.
A woman once of some height, she is bent small, and the lingering strands of black look dirty in her white hair. She carries a cane, but in forgetfulness, perhaps, hangs it over her forearm and totter...
An earth hard as iron lay locked beneath a sky whose mottled clouds spit snow like ashes sucked up a chimney and then dispersed with the smoke.
Celebrity is a mask that eats into the face.
Funny, the world just can’t touch you once you follow your instincts.
He realizes that the heat on his cheeks is anger; he has been angry ever since he left that diner full of mermaids.
I like old men. They can be wonderful bastards because they have nothing to lose. The only people who can be themselves are babies and old bastards.
Men traveling alone develop a romantic vertigo. Bech had already fallen in love with a freckled embassy wife in Russia, a buck-toothed chanteuse in Rumania, a stolid Mongolian sculptress in Kazakhstan...
Nothing feels worse than other people's good times.
What is this? He has a sensation of touching glass. He doesn't know if they are talking about nothing or making code for the deepest meanings.
Be what you are. Don’t try to be Sally or Johnny or Fred next door; be yourself.
The books of the 1920s and ’30s that are most inviting, with their handy size, generous margins, and sharp letterpress type.
Government is either organized benevolence or organized madness its peculiar magnitude permits no shading.
She had willed herself open to him and knew that the chemistry of love was all within her, her doing. Even his power to wound her with neglect was a power she had created and granted ...
Mozart's music gives us permission to live.
Beyond doubt, I am a splendid fellow. In the autumn, winter and spring, I execute the duties of a student of divinity; in the summer I disguise myself in my skin and become a lifeguard. My slightly na...
But it seems to me that once you begin a gesture it's fatal not to go through with it.
I Missed His Book, But I Read His NameThough authors are a dreadful clanTo be avoided if you can,I'd like to meet the Indian,M. Anantanarayanan.I picture him as short and tan.We'd meet, perhaps, in Hi...
I don't recall inclement weather on a fair day.
It is easy to love people in memory; the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you.
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