The way Misha tells it, he drove like a blind man, giving the car almost full independence to feel its way along, bumping off things, only giving the wheel a spin with the tips of this fingers when th...
There was no one to call me to bed, no one to demand that the rhythms of my life operate in a duet.
When I got older I decided I wanted to be a real writer. I tried to write about real things. I wanted to describe the world, because to live in an undescribed world was too lonely.
You fall in love, it's intoxicating, an for a little while you feel like you've actually become one with the other person. Merged souls, and so on. You think you'll never be lonely again. Only it does...
Přepadl mě onen rozjařený pocit jako z jiného světa, který někdy zakouším, když vstupuji do sféry života někoho jiného, pocit (který se na chvilku jeví jako zcela reálná možnost), že změním své banáln...
I continued to sit there hour after hour watching the unrelenting rain slosh against the glass, thinking of our life together, Lotte's and mine, how everything in it was designed to give a sense of pe...
And at the table next to her was a little boy in a soccer uniform sitting with his mother who told him, A wave of happiness came over me. It felt giddy to be part of it all. To be drinking a cup of c...
23. OUTSIDE, IT WAS STILL COMING DOWN
After all who doesn't wish to make a spectacle of their loneliness
Doesn’t part of the awe that fills us when we confront the unknown come from understanding that, should it at last flood into us and become known, we would be altered? In our view of the stars, we fin...
Doesn’t part of the awe that fills us when we confront the unknown come from understanding that, should it at last flood into us and become known, we would be altered?
Don’t be a fool, you’ve let yourself fall apart, the pieces have got lost, and now there’s nothing left to give, you can’t hide it forever, sooner or later she’ll figure out the truth: you’re a shell...
He held my hand and told me a story about when he was six and threw a rock at a kid's head who was bullying his brother, and how after that no one had bothered either of them again. 'You have to stick...
He wondered if what he had taken for the richness of silence was really the poverty of never being heard [...]. How could he have forgotten what he had always known: there is no match for the silence...
I found out how little is unbearable.
I though, So this is how they send the angel. Stalled at the age when she loved you most.
In life we sit at the table and refuse to eat, and in death we are eternally hungry.
Metti chiunque, anche uno scemo, davanti a una finestra, e avrai uno Spinoza.
My child, My love and my regret, as you were when I first laid eyes on you, a tiny old man who hadn't the time to brush off his ancient expression, naked and misshapen in the nurse's arms.
No sé qué decir de él sino que me ha conmovido del modo en que uno desea que lo conmueva cada libro que empieza a leer. Quiero decir que, de algún modo que casi no sabría describir, me ha transformado...
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