Before I drove to wherever the beast's lair was - and then pulled the pistol's foreskin back, and then enjoyed the orgasm of the crushed trigger.
My taut heartlurches heavily, like a sack in a cart, clatteringdownhill, towards a cliff, towards an abyss!It can't be stopped!
'I shall vomit,' said Hugh, 'if you persist in pestering me with all that odious rot.'
Great novels are above all great fairy tales . . . literature does not tell the truth but makes it up.
(T)here exist friendships which develop their own inner duration, their own eons of transparent time.
…my Lolita remarked: You know, what’s so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own; and it struck me, as my automaton knees went up and down, that I simply did not know a thing about...
– Tudod, a halálban az a legrettenetesebb, hogy az ember olyan tökéletesen magára marad.
The good reader is one who has imagination, memory, a dictionary, and some artistic sense–
The gin kept my heart alive but bemazed my brain
Realidade (uma das poucas palavras que só fazem sentido entre aspas)
In a livid wet dress, under the tumbling mist... had run ecstatically up that ridge above Moulinet to be felled there by a thunderbolt.
You see - the moulded whimsy of a friezeon a portico keeps us from recognizing,sometimes, the symmetry of the whole...You will leave; we'll forget one another;but now and then the name of a street,or...
You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy,... in order to discern at once, by ineffable signs,...the little deadly demon...; she stands unrecognized by them and unconsci...
Years of secret suffering had taught me superhuman self-control.
Without you I wouldn’t have moved this way, to speak the language of flowers.
When a hypothesis enters a scientist's mind, he checks it by calculation and experiment, that is, by the mimicry and the pantomime of truth. It's plausibility infects others, and the hypothesis is acc...
We loved - and it has all gone, somewhere...We loved - and now our love is frozen,and now it lies, one wing spread out, raisingits little feet - a dead sparrow on the dampgravel... But we loved... we...
We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless.
We are duplicitous, we're blind- and it is hard to live, trusting only in life: earthly life is a murky translation from the divine original; the general thought is clear but the primordial music is m...
We all admire the spangled acrobat with classic grace meticulously walking his tight rope in the talcum light; but how much rarer art there is in the sagging rope expert wearing scarecrow clothes and...