Whatever became of the momentwhen one first knew about death? There must have been one, a moment, in childhood, when it first occurred to you that you don't go on forever. It must have been shattering...
We're better at predicting events at the edge of the galaxy or inside the nucleus of an atom than whether it'll rain on auntie's garden party three Sundays from now.
We are tied down to a language which makes up in obscurity what it lacks in style.
Sometimes I dream of revolution, a bloody coup d’etat by the second rank—troupes of actors slaughtered by their understudies, magicians sawn in half by indefatigably smiling glamour girls, cricket tea...
SEPTIMUS: My lady, I was alone with my thoughts in the gazebo, when Mrs Chater ran me to ground, and I being in such a passion, in an agony of unrelieved desire --LADY CROOM: Oh....!SEPTIMUS: -- I tho...
LADY CROOM: ....My lake is drained to a ditch for no purpose I can understand, unless it be that snipe and curlew have deserted three counties so that they may be shot in our swamp. What you painted a...
It could have been--it didn't have to be .... It could have been--a bird out of season, dropping bright-feathered on my shoulder.... It could have been a tongueless dwarf standing by the road to point...
If knowledge isn't self-knowledge it isn't doing much, mate. Is the universe expanding? Is it contracting? Is it standing on one leg and singing 'When Father Painted the Parlour'? Leave me out. I can...
His radio plays include: If You’re Glad I’ll Be Frank, Albert’s Bridge (Italia Prize), Where Are They Now?, Artist Descending A Staircase, The Dog It Was That Died, In the Native State (Sony Award).
GUIL: I think I have it. A man talking sense to himself is no madder then a man talking nonsense not to himself.ROS: Or just as mad.GUIL: Or just as mad.ROS: And he does both.GUIL: So there you are.RO...
Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over...Death is not anything...death is not...It's the absence of presence, nothing more...the endless time of never coming back...a g...
By why, Ligurinus, alas why this unaccustomed tear trickling down my cheek? – why does my glib tongue stumble to silence as I speak? At night I hold you fast in my dreams, I run after you across the F...
Бог, в понимании Шеллинга, — это космос, единство природы, которое пробивается к сознанию, и человек — первая победа на этом пути, животные дышат ему в затылок, овощи несколько отстают, а камням пока...
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
I would join Sisyphus in Hades and gladly push my boulder up the slope if only, each time it rolled back down, I were given a line of Aeschylus.
I got dizzy, he explained.I should think you did. What were you doing?'Nothing, said Moon. I was trying to face one way or the other and I got confused and fell over.Let that be my epitaph.
[James] Joyce... an essentially private man who wished his total indifference to public notice to be universally recognized....
He's never known anything like it! But then, he has never known anything to write home about, so this is nothing to write home about.
Autumnal -- nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day ... Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it ... Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flu...
Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one. A moment. In childhood. When it first occurred to you that you don’t go on forever. It must have been shatterin...