Kekulé dreams the Great Serpent holding its own tail in its mouth, the dreaming Serpent which surrounds the World. But the meanness, the cynicism with which this dream is to be used. The Serpent that...
Just don't tell me you're in love, OK?Sister, I ain't even in line.
I am having a hallucination now, I don't need drugs for that.
He sees her standing at the end of a passage in her life, without any next step to take—all her bets are in, she has only the tedium now of being knocked from one room to the next, a sequence of numbe...
He gets back to the Casino just as big globular raindrops, thick as honey, begin to splat into giant asterisks on the pavement, inviting him to look down at the bottom of the text of the day, where fo...
Hand in hand with Brenda whom he’d met yesterday, Profane ran down the street. Presently, sudden and in silence, all illumination in Valletta, houselight and streetlight, was extinguished. Profane and...
For recessional music there's Closing Time by Semisonic, a four-chord farewell to the old century.
Doubt is the essence of Christ.
But it is a curve each of them feels, unmistakably. It is the parabola. They must have guessed, once or twice—guessed and refused to believe—that everything, always, collectively, had been moving towa...
A million bureaucrats are diligently plotting death and some of them even know it...
Интернет - това вълшебно удобство, което прониква като мирис и в най-дребните детайли на живота ни - пазаруването, домакинството, домашните работи, данъците - и абсорбира енергията ни, изяжда времето...
You're so sick, Oedipa, she told herself, or the room, which knew.
Witnesses parade in, there is the travesty of a trial, and Ercole meets his end in a refreshingly simple mass stabbing.
Who claims Truth, Truth abandons. History is hir'd, or coerc'd, only in Interests that must ever prove base. She is too innocent, to be left within the reach of anyone in Power,- who need but touch he...
When something real is about to happen to you, you go toward it with a transparent surface parallel to your own front that hums and bisects both your ears, making eyes very alert. The light bends towa...
What was walking on water, if it wasn’t Bible talk for surfing?
Through rain...then through dreaming glass, green with the evening. And herself in chair, old-fashioned, bonneted, looking west over the deck of Earth, inferno red at its edges, and further in the bro...
This is just how they want you, an animal, a bitch with swollen udder lying in the dirt, blank-faced, surrendered, reduced to this meat, these smells...
They have had their moment of freedom. Webley has only been a guest star. Now it’s back to the cages and the rationalized forms of death—death in the service of the one species cursed with the knowled...
There was nobody who could help her. Nobody in the world. They were all on something, mad, possible enemies, dead.